Tazeria in Azeroth
by Tazeria
Summary: The story of an orphaned nightelf and her comrades adventure in the World of Warcraft. These heroes fight, love, and live with the bonds that only true experiences of life's triumph and tragedy can create. Mystic, down to earth and action packed.
1. Chapter 1

**Two Priests One Boy**

Raw never looked up from the stopwatch he held in his right hand when Steen entered the large kitchen of the rectory.

The priest was seated in front of the huge, red- bricked oven staring hard at the timer, willing it to chime. He had spent the entire wee hours of the morning baking what he considered to be his best recipe of hand kneaded, home- baked Westfall Oat bread and it was nearly browned on the edges and ready to be removed from the hot oven. The smell was heavenly! Raw drew a long breath through his nostrils and leaned his head back in satisfaction. He couldn't help uttering a muffled… mmmmm…at the thought of his freshly cooked Stormwind apple butter and hot honey being poured over the soft, cushiony bread still hot from the oven.

Without argument, the gourmet breakfast promised to start a beautiful spring day. The birds had begun their morning song outside the tiny circle shaped window above the short hardwood table that was still covered in flour from his earlier preparation efforts. There were linked sausages, grilled to perfection lined on a simple white platter. Large, brown eggs, hard –boiled with a runny yolk, chopped, crisp apples, warm with cinnamon and sugar, and the bread would complete the feast!

"Morning Raw, you been up all night again?" Steen asked his fellow priest as he poured a cup of strong, dark brewed coffee from the pot on the hot plate and sat at the messy table. One look around the room had already told him everything.

"Got up at three am to knead this dough actually and from the smell of it- worth every minute of lost sleep." The long-bearded, older priest replied, still never taking his eyes away from the watch.

Steen grinned, "I seriously can't complain about getting assigned here with you. I bet I've gained 25 pounds since the council gave me this transfer. You are by far the best chef in the priesthood my friend. Plus, you make a mean bit-o-wake-me-up coffee." Steen swallowed the hot brew and nodded in appreciation.

"There!" Exclaimed a happy Raw as the timer dinged ready in his hands. He quickly donned a set of reinforced, fire-resistant gloves from the wooden cooking butler and opened the cast iron door of the oven swiftly then carefully pulled the long wire rack from the hot cavern. Waves of heat poured into the small kitchen from the opening and sent a mouthwatering blast of the aroma of fresh bread billowing throughout the house.

"That's sinful." grinned Steen looking at Raw over the rim of his coffee mug, his eyes gleeful.

"It may be sinful but light above! It's good stuff! Do you have clean hands?' Raw was chuckling as he set the four loaves of bread on the cooling rack on the counter and covered them with a red checkered cloth.

Right at that moment, they both stopped and stared at each other.

"Did you hear that?" Steen perked his head to the side and set his coffee down on the table.

Puzzled, Raw turned toward the arch shaped door next to the oven.

"I thought I heard… something. Is it that mongrel you found in the wood the other day? Seriously Steen, you should have let that worg die on the path you found it. Worgs are nothing but trouble you know. Besides, I dislike animals." Raw stared hard at his friend as he took the few steps toward the small wooden door to the yard out back.

"Max is fine and he's outside in the barn. I have been tending to his feet; someone or something nearly burned the pads off his paws." answered the younger man.

"MAX! You…you've NAMED him? I don't care, you ARE NOT keeping him." Raw was clearly annoyed that Steen would even remotely consider keeping a wild animal on monastery premises. Why, it was unheard of! The priest huffed in disgust.

"SHHH…There it is again! Did you hear it?" Steen hushed the older priest with a quick wave of his hands.

They both held perfectly still.

"There! Again! Did you hear it? Sounds like laughter." said Raw to Steen. They both stepped forward.

There in the glen beside the rectory was a small child amidst the flowers in the morning meadow. He was giggling and running through the field of yellow-gold blossoms, his thin, long blond hair mixing gently with the yellow buds upon the early morning blooms.

He was chubby cheeked and dressed in a long white cotton nightshirt.

The toddler had an envelope pinned to his chest. Upon the envelope in beautiful script the following had been penned:

'For safe keeping"

"What the…" exclaimed a surprised Raw as he stepped onto the flagstone porch. An equally puzzled Steen followed him outside and stared. They both dropped to their haunches to meet this small visitor at eye level.

As the toddler approached them he was smiling, his gait one that spoke of newness to walking. He lumbered toward the duo on the porch and stood before Raw. With swiftness too fast for such a small person the boy snatched a handful of Raw's long beard and gave an unusually hard YANK!

"Ow! WHAT THE HECK!" cried the older priest as he fell back on his rear end.

The boy let out a string of gleeful giggles and repeated" Ow-wee." and pointed at Raw's face with a chubby finger.

Steen sucked a hearty laugh back behind his teeth as he observed the middle aged priest rubbing his chin with one hand and backside with the other.

"Come here little one." said Steen softly to the child as he stretched out his hand to the boy. "Come here." He encouraged.

The child inched toward the younger priest, still grinning, his rosy, chubby cheeks flushed with color from running through the flowerbeds.

Quietly he looked at the child's round little face and asked

" Well, hi there, who are you? Huh? What's your name little one?" Steen grinned at the lad as he carefully grasped the boy's forearm.

"MA-WAW-DIS" the boy slammed the answer into Steen's face.

"Marriddis?" repeated Steen.

The boys open palm swept up with a THAWCK! smacked up against Steen's cheek.

"MA-WAW-DIS!" the toddler corrected as he reached down and grabbed a piece of worg scat Max had left near the step of the porch after barely having made it outside. The youngster promptly smacked Raw across the face leaving a nasty brown mark across the older priest's left cheek.

Letting out a stream of giggles at his own entertainment tactics, Marudas pointed at Raw's face and said

"POO!" and continued his gleeful reaction at his own antics.

The child was sitting in the bucket Steen had modified as a booster seat; which had then been attached with a rope to the bench of the kitchen table. In one chubby fist, Marudas held a half-eaten plump sausage and in the other a small wooden spoon dripping with Raw's applesauce. He was happily banging the end of the spoon on the table while he punctuated every rhythmic spoon hit with a "LA- LA- LA- LA" in a singsong, high pitch voice.

He turned a sticky face at the two priests, stuck his tongue out and promptly gave them a wet raspberry, splattering the pair with the un-swallowed happiness of the breakfast Raw had so lovingly prepared.

Giggling, he stuffed his mouth full again and resumed his morning song.

Raw gave Steen a shell-shocked stare. The men were beside themselves and totally out of their circle of comfort. They both looked exhausted and were covered in bits and pieces of breakfast fare, from collar to hem of robe.

Steen released a long held breath in the form of a defeated, tired sigh, taking in the vision of the boy in the seat before him and returned Raw's stare with a helpless shrug.

"Hellooooo? Anybody home?" came a soft female voice from the front walkway of the cottage.

Startled back to reality Steen and Raw looked at each other and said "The Ladies!" Both men simultaneously remembering they were expecting company this fine spring morning.

Jumping into action Raw smoothed his long beard, tangling his fingers in his sticky whiskers in the process. Steen wiped his hands down the front of his robes, doing his best to smooth the wrinkles and cleared his throat.

"We're in the kitchen!" He yelled out, his voice sounding slightly desperate and relieved all at once.

Saks and Sariseva were tethering their beautiful white mares to the hitching post in front of the rectory. Saks lifted a small basket from the back of her mount, carefully sliding it up her arm.

'We'll be right in." Saks hollered back as she checked the contents of her basket and whispered a slight "Shhh", to the pet within.

"Sari did you bring my roses? They will make a beautiful centerpiece for the receiving table for services this week." Saks looked up from the basket as she questioned the tall, beautiful woman standing next to her mount.

"Yes, I have them here. You have such a green thumb Saks! They are the most beautiful shade of yellow I have ever seen! I haven't a clue how you get them to shade the way they do. I think you missed your true calling when you entered the priesthood. You should have been a gardener. They are truly fabulous!" Sariseva buried her nose in the large bundle of perfectly budded yellow roses and took a deep breath of the flowery scent, closing her eyes and losing herself in the fragrance.

Saks blushed a little, "You're so sweet Sari! Why thank you, I love roses, what woman doesn't?"

They walked to the front door and were met by the men who were stumbling over each other to let them in, their movements were jerky and they were a mess!

"Oh! Thank you! THANK YOU! Light Above! LOOK Steen and PRAISE as we are saved! Yes! Yes! Do come in! Please come in, welcome! I have made a breakfast", Raw was gushing the words and practically pulling Sariseva and Saks into the cottage. Steen was quick to open the door for them, his head nodding a quick agreement.

Sari glanced a quizzical look in Saks's direction and saw that Steen had an equally anxious grin upon his face that mirrored that of Raw. It was then she noticed the disheveled state of their clothing. Steen had a section of hair pointing straight out from behind his ear and Raw's beard was a tangled mess of wire.

"What in the world is going on in here? What have you two been up to?"

Saks and Sari stopped cold in the doorway and stared at the men.

Saks tapped her foot.

Raw and Steen stared at theirs.

Marudas was unbound.

The toddler shot into the room, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet and pointing his spoon in the direction of the women; "Nan! Nan! Mimee! Mimee!" he clearly addressed the two newcomers. He excitedly hopped toward the back door all the while yelling "Puppies, PUPPIES! PUPPIES!' Clearly the child wanted them to follow him.

Sari and Saks looked at each other with twin astonishment and then looked back to the men.

"Whose child is that?" Saks questioned Raw directly; she was still in a state of confusion as to exactly what had been happening here this fine morning. Sari became aware that her jaw had been open and closed her mouth, and turning to Steen, tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"He showed up." Was all that Steen could manage to squeak out.

"What do you mean 'He showed up'? That makes no sense." Sariseva was as confused as Saks looked.

Raw picked up the explanation:

"He just showed up… this morning… about forty five minutes ago. I was taking the bread from the oven and we heard him laughing and running in the backyard. There he was. We brought him inside; he was hungry so we fixed him a plate and sat him down to eat. Here, "Raw handed Sari the letter that had been pinned to the front of the nightshirt of the boy," This is all we know of him."

Sari opened the note and read the following impeccably penned message aloud:

"This is our child. We find ourselves in a position to be unable to properly care for him. We can think of no better or safer place for him to be. Please understand that it is with great grievance that we entrust him into your care. He is loved and he is very special. We cannot and will not return for him. Know ye this.. He is destined for things that we don't understand and are better explained by the environment you can offer him. Please let him know that he is always loved. Please keep him safe."

Saks took the letter from Sari's hands and scanned it with her own eyes.

"My word!" was all she could say.

Right at that second Marudas came rushing back into the front entry and grabbed the hem of Raw's robe looked up at him and yelled "PUPPIES! Hey… hey..POO!" He addressed Raw demandingly," Puppies out der...Poo.. come.. Puppies!" Tugging hard on the fabric with his sticky hands and nearly pulling Raw to the floor as he turned toward the yard and did his best to drag the older priest with him.

Steen bit back a chuckle but couldn't hide his grin, "Aw ..Raw he likes you, he called you Poo."

"SHUT UP." Raw's tone was flat in response. His teeth were clenched.

Steen dropped to eye level with the boy, " Yes, there's a puppy out there." The words were softly directed at the child.

Marudas released Raw's garment from his grip and lumbered toward Steen;

He placed a hand on each of Steen's cheek and turned his face to look him directly in the eyes; softly he whispered to the young priest, "Noob…puppy…out der..(Marudas pointed to the back door of the cottage); "Noob…come, puppy owee, puppy oweee. The toddler then pointed to his own feet and looked back in Steen's eyes.

"I don't believe this!' Steen lifted his face to the three standing over him and the child. He was astonished!

"Don't believe what?" the older priest chuckled." That he called you Noob? I can believe that! Aww…. Steen I think he likes you." Raw's tone was mocking through his grin.

"He knows!"

"Knows what?" asked a still confused Saks.

"He knows the worg has injured paws." Steen was amazed at this realization and searched the faces of his fellow priests one by one as he looked up from his spot on the floor near the child.

"Worg!" Saks gasped and unconsciously pulled her pets' basket closer to her body. "What Worg? What has been happening down here this week?!" First this child! And..and… Now a dangerous Worg? You men are out of sorts!" She was unnerved at the unexpected turn this visit had taken and frankly was scared for Alicat, her smoky colored cat that hid in the basket.

"How could he possibly know that worg has burned Paws?" Steen was still trying to figure it out and spoke more to himself at that point than the others.

Marudas sat beside Steen and pulled off one white dirty sock exposing a tiny foot that was beet red and hot to the touch.

"Owee.. Noob..Puppy oweee." Marudas showed Steen his feet.

His big round eyes then met Sari's gaze.

They all gasped simultaneously and exchanging amazed looks with each other, knowing this was beyond them all.

Steen allowed the child to grasp his hand and be led to the back door. The other three partially stunned priests were following closely behind the pair. They made their way down the stone pathway to the barn, with the boy chattering to Steen about puppies and owees for the entire walk.

The toddler stopped at the entrance to the comfy looking old structure with its high thatched roof and light smell of hay and horses. Marudas put a sticky finger to his lips, looked up at Steen and said with all the seriousness his young round face could convey stated, "Shhh..kk? Noob.. Shhh." Under any other circumstance that exchange would have been unbelievably funny, but things being what they were Steen stopped and watched the boy tip- toe into the barn.

The first stall on the left side of the barn was unlatched and strands of hay were scattered about on the dirt doorway. A heavy breathing was coming from the creature within, sounding much like the type of sleep that comes from exhaustion by pain or having been over-worked.

Saks stood at the entry to the barn clutching her basket close to her body, not wanting to take another step forward;

"Steen! Don't you let that baby go in there with that animal! I won't have it!', Saks voice was a harsh whisper and her expression was alarmed that Steen would consent to allowing this child anywhere near a wild worg.

"Mimee…shhh..kk? "Mawadas is kk. KK?" the boy turned and faced the beautiful lady in the doorway. A feeling of calm overcame Saks and she answered him with an unusually soft "OK Babe, if you're sure about this."

Marudas gently led Steen to the doorway moving ever so slowly all the while saying "Shhh, shhh, shhh" as if whispering a reminder to himself. They turned into the stall and there lay the worg nestled in a bed of hay in the corner of the small area. The morning strands of sunlight sliced through a space in the wooden wall, capturing the tiny dust particles as they floated through the air and danced onto the sleeping wolfing.

The creature was large and its white fur was unkempt and straggly with parts of the mane matted and muddied. The four paws bore Steen's mark of attempted doctoring and were covered with clean white cotton bandages. There was a slight medicinal smell coming from the wraps.

Sari sniffed the air," Is that Sungrass and Goldthorn I smell on those bandages Steen?" She asked the young priest.

"Yes, as recommended by the Alchemist in Stormwind. Why? Should it have been something else you think?"

"For burns? No, that's what is commonly used. Well, for people anyway, I am unsure about worgan though. I assume it would be the same, would be logical to me anyway." Sari was carefully eyeing the toddler while she answered Steen.

Marudas crept next to the sleeping worg and knelt down beside him glancing in Steen and Raw's direction every few seconds all while repeating "shh, shh, shh" in his little whispery breaths.

His tiny hand gently picked up the worgs right foreleg and he began to unwrap the bandage. The worg's paws, although not grown to full size, were twice the size of the toddlers hands. A low rumble of a growl began to quiver the belly of the beast, the boy continued his rhythmic "shh, shh, shh." directed more at the animal now than to the priests who stood nearby.

"This is not good Steen; it's not safe for any of us in here. An injured worg is nothing to be toyed with." Raw's forehead was lined with worried crevices and his gaze never strayed from the child on the stall floor. A slight sheen of perspiration covered his hairline and his fingers nervously threaded through his long beard. "We should take this child from here and go…now." Raw's every nerve stood on edge and he poised himself to snatch the child up should the creature awaken.

Steen moved slightly closer to the boy, a great desire to protect the child filled his gut; he fought to keep his instinct to grab the babe and run out of the barn with every inch of control he could muster. Raw was right, they shouldn't have allowed him anywhere near this wild animal. What had he been thinking!

Sariseva stood holding her breath, watching every detail of the encounter with an Eagle eye. Her mind was sending the worg soothing thoughts as she sent a prayer for safety to encircle the child. She was rooted to the spot where she stood and found that her feet were unmovable. She opened her mouth to tell the others but no words came to her tongue.

Saks stood at the back, biting her bottom lip and clutching Alicats' basket ever so close to her side.

"shh, shh." Marudas was rocking his little body back and forth just a tiny fraction of an inch as he held the great paw in his hands. He pulled the remainder of the bandage and exposed the pad of the paw. The flesh was severely burned and open, seeping raw meat where there was once a pad exposed to the morning air. The wound was terrible, the burn deep and although Steen had done well in his attempts to clean it and provide medicine for healing, the injury was devastating to the animal and eventually would have brought about its death.

Marudas took each leg in turn and gingerly unwrapped every bandage, the next paw looking worse than the one before. The four priests stood mesmerized and unable to assist or move, each frozen in position with expressions of utter concern and angst.

The tiny fingers began to touch every part of exposed injury on the wolfing, the child still repeating shh, shh, shh, in little rhythmic whispers. As the adults watched in hope and terror Maru's fingers danced across the afflictions with rapid fire, smoothing and tapping and massaging the four extremities of the beast.

Then it began to happen!

Miraculously, slight dark strings of paw pad began to appear and sew their way into one another and across the raw burned edges of the wounds. Cross sectioning and re crossing until all of the paws were restored to health!

"MY WORD!" exclaimed a shocked Saks, her jaw more open than closed. "What in the name of The Lightbringer himself! Do you all see that? Or have I finally lost my mind! Did those Paws just knit themselves back together? Someone say SOMETHING!" Her voice was filled with amazement at the witnessing of such an event.

None of the priests could say a word. They each looked at the other in silent astonishment rooted in time to the spot they stood.

But what none of them realized was the real miracle was about to happen.

What was about to manifest was bigger than all their powers combined.

Marudas fell into a trance. His eyes wide and open and gaping, as if staring into something or someone unseen. His lips still mouthing "shh, shh, shh,' but no sound emerged. He fell to the side and into Maxs' left haunch.

The beast was instantly snapped and bore up on his newly healed feet with a loud growling and snatching of jaw.

Saks screams filled the barn.

A flock of white pigeons flew from the loft.

~~~~~~~to be continued~~~~~~

Saks' shrill screams filled the barn where the priests stood -frozen in horror at the great wolfling which was snarling in the stable before them. The beast's lips curled over long, ivory fangs inching longer than the priest's fingers; exposing pink, dripping gums to the terrified four. It bore up on its hind legs and towered over them growling and snapping its' jaws at the witnesses.

Marudas fell to the bed of hay beneath the creature, seemingly oblivious to the horror around him, his tiny pink mouth, pursed like a rose bud, still mouthing a silent "shh, shh, shh" his pale, blue eyes wide and staring at some unseen apparition. The great worgs' tail curled protectively around the child.

None of the priests could move an inch, unable to react or assist, like stone statues they were rooted in their places with only the screams of Saks filling their ears. In terror they viewed the boy on the bed of hay with his great wild protector promising none would gain an inch to its young savior.

Steen's mind was screaming for him to grab the child, he struggled against his invisible bonds, internally agonizing for release to save this child. Searing -white terror filled his mind as adrenaline flowed through his veins like hot lava down a mountainside.

Raw was paralyzed, glued to the spot in time in the barn, his heart racing like a woodpecker's rapid beak tapping on a hardwood tree. His mind consumed with urgent need to save the boy, yet incapable of reaction. His eyes never leaving those of the worg's and ready to instantly grab the child once this invisible force released its grip.

Sariseva's mind was wild with the terror before her. She began to leap to snatch the child up and away from the wolfing but was also frozen to her space in the barn. Her thoughts worked relentlessly to soothe the wild animal, whose wild green eyes were now fixed on pinpointing her as its target. A thin glistening of perspiration shone on her agonized face as she focused every thought in her power to calm the worg and encircle the child in the light of protection. She fought wave after wave of nausea as her protective instincts were denied by this unseen force. Helpless, she focused on Marudas' tiny form, lying in the golden hay upon the stable floor.

Saks fell to her knees, still screaming and clutching her small basket to her chest. Desperate to reach the child but nearly immobilized by her fears she inched her way toward the great wolf. She was the only one of the four capable of physical movement. Terror gripped her gut like a living force within her belly. Horrified, she knew what she must do.

"Move slowly and try not to scream.' Came the calming female voice in her mind.

It was Sari!

"Put the basket aside so you can get the babe. Move slowly and cautiously..I have the beasts' eyes on me. You must get the child quickly; I cannot hold this creature for long."

Saks bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood, rapid hiccupping breaths came from her chest as she set her basket beside the wood on the back side of the stall. Her fingers instantly rechecking the front clasp to ensure her beloved Alicat was safe within its' confines. Warm sunlight washed her cheeks which were wet with unrealized tears; Saks faced the worg and the child who lay behind it.

The woman straightened her shoulders and squarely set her stance before the wolfing. Sniffling she slowly began to inch her way across the dirt floor on her knees in the direction of where Marudas lay, her eyes sharply on the snarling beast before her, she called to him quietly;

"Marudas, I'm coming, don't move." Her voice was a weak whimper under rapid breaths.

The child was totally unaware of any spoken word around him. As the priest crept closer, she began to smell the worgan, blood and medicine, puppy breath mixed with wet dog fur filled her nose. Despite her every fiber wanting to turn, grab Ali's basket and shriek for the barn door; she moved her terrified form toward the child on the bed of hay.

Max's teeth snatched at her hair and face, missing its target by mere hairs-breath.

AT that precise moment, with a wild yell sounding more like a war cry than a scream, Saks lunged toward the child and covered him with the whole of her body.

The worg turned in an instant and released a howl the shook the beams above their heads. Saks squinted her eyes tightly as she curled her body protectively around that of the babe beneath her and waited for the attack.

"GET AWAY FROM HER YOU BITCH!"

It was Sari! ….and she had a pitchfork…

"Here..HERE..' she screamed, waving the weapon in an arc in front of her; Sari distracted the beast from its intended prey. Growling, the worgan's glazed, green eyes focused on the crazed woman.

Poised like a javelin combatant at the Olympics, Sari stood at the doorway of the tiny stable her narrowed eyes on the wolfing, ready to impale the animal at any cost to her own safety.

The Worg fixed its gaze solely on this new aggressor, but unwilling to charge the foe- it howled a second time until the rafters shuddered tiny bits of ancient dust upon the people in the barn.

Then the basket by the wood suddenly began to wiggle vigorously and with a loud POP! Out jumped Alicat! With puffed up fur and arch-backed the cat lunged toward the worgan! Hissing and swiping at the massive creature measuring twenty times its size.

With a side step dance, (that only cats can do when they're really ticked off) it pranced in front of the monster, yowling and daring the huge mongrel to take its best shot!

"NO! ALI! NO! OH GOD! RUN!" Saks was screaming from her position on the hay, shock reverberated through her body like a bolt of severed lightening. She tightened her body and curled around the child to shield it from what she knew would be her final moments in this life.

Ali shot from the stall like an arrow from a bow and the worg bolt out behind the feline in fiery chase.

As if on cue, the priests were instantly released from the unseen bonds that had held them in grip. Raw raced and slammed the door shut. He pulled the cross latch down to secure it and then flattened his back against the door for added protection.

Steen leapt toward the woman and child in the hay, and threw his arms around them protectively while searching the area where the worg had just exited.

Sari ran toward the pile of people in the hay, "Who's injured? Are any of you injured? Saks! Easy now, easy! Check the boy!"

"Oh my word! Sari- Ali is out there! ALI IS OUT THERE!" Saks was blubbering tears and close to hysterics.

"Extraordinary."

The words were almost a whisper as Snuff examined the trail of tiny sparkling, dust -like material through the leaves on the floor of the wood.

"Isn't it though?" Huit commented, equally entranced by the spectral glitter.

The two druids were bent at the waist, focused on the tiny, nearly invisible line of shining strands of thread which created a minute trail through the bed of leaves and underbrush of the forest. Oblivious to their surroundings, they waited as every tiny breeze parted the leaves above the trees allowing sunlight to lighten the path that was so slight, but yet so very significant. They crept along, side by side, examining and pointing in wonder.

Huit had noticed the sign several days before and had sent word to Snuff to come to Auberdine from The Stormpeak Retreat. Naturally, Snuff thought Huit was losing what little mind he was known to possess, however, Snuff, on hearing the call of a fellow Druid, was only too happy to travel to Azeroth. He had been busy in his instructional duties, and visiting an old school chum seemed exactly what he needed right now.

What he didn't expect was to encounter an ancient sign that hadn't been seen since the beginning of recorded time. He didn't expect to witness what was known as the trail of the Mekkalee-Pon. Old Druish writings which were often unrecognized by modern Druids, occasionally referred to the trail of the Mekkalee-Pon as a highly religious sign of nature and one that led to eternal life. Most current day Druids passed the story off as ancient legend and gave it no further thought. Never had the pair of friends thought much of the old legend to overly concern themselves with gathering a full understanding of the text. Instead, they chose to adopt the more current views of Druism, entertaining such an event as lore-based and unlikely.

The trail had led the pair from the soft shoreline of Auberdine docks, where the simple dirt roads curved into elven woods, all the way to the suburbs of Stormwind. The land was foreign to them and both. Having visited this human city only once during their school days on a field trip, neither could understand why an elven legend would lead them to this place. The fresh smell of land and tilled dirt was a nice change to their surroundings. They had entered the little forest not long ago.

"Wow! Do you smell that?" Huit perked his head up to look at Snuff, surprise in his eyes.

"I sure do! Did you have cabbage last night before we left the inn? Or more cheese?"

Huit answered Snuff with a sharp elbow to his side. "Idiot! The food! Can you smell the food?" He demanded.

Snuff turned his nose to the air around him and took in a deep breath. Excitement had prevented him from taking any breakfast at the inn in the city this morning, and sure enough, the aroma of bread filled the air around him. Hunger gripped his mid-section.

"Wow! Where is that coming from I wonder?" Snuff was breathing deeply trying to discern the direction of origin for the heavenly smell.

"I don't know but someone has been busy this morning. It certainly smells delightful." Huit turned his focus back the thinly traced trail they had been so diligently following for days now.

"C'mon, back to work. We haven't come this far to lose this trail and who knows, it could disappear at any moment! We just cannot take that chance." Huit bent back over and started to walk along the trail again.

Snuff followed behind for a few more paces, but hunger was getting the better of him and he drifted off the given path to the west, toward the direction of the wonderful aroma.

~~~~~To Be Continued~~~~~~~

"Oh! Sari! "Ali is out there!" Saks was cautiously pealing her body away from the tiny child beneath her. Her voice was shaking and broken from fright and tears. She looked at Sariseva with eyes filled with tears. She picked the small bundle of child up into her arms and held him outward to face the other priests.

Marudas was still entranced, his tiny fingers tapping together silently, as if he were still healing the worg, his gaze distant and seeing, his mouth still moving with a silent whispering "shhh". Sari gathered the child up and laid him flat upon the softness of the hay. She immediately began inspecting every portion of the boy's body, ensuring to her satisfaction that no injury had befallen him in the fray.

Raw, certain there would be no way the wild animal could re-enter the barn, ran back to the stall where the others were inspecting the child.

"Are you all well? Is everyone unhurt?" Raw was shaking with leftover adrenaline and dropped to his knees by the boy in the hay.

"Yes, I think we're fine Raw." Steen was still on alert. He leaned his face over the child and picked up one of the tiny hands, which continued to move in rhythmic fashion.

"Raw, Look at this would you?" Steen was peering at the boy's fingertips intently. "I think something got on the babe's fingers." Steen turned the small hand palm up so the others could get a look.

Small blister-like beads were forming on the tips of Marudas's fingertips. Tiny orbs the color of muted oil; three or four to a finger, were appearing on every single one of his fingertips.

"What in the Name of The Lightbringer Himself is this?' Steen's brows were knitted together and closely inspecting one tiny finger. "Did he receive the burn? You all saw how his feet had become hot and red. But this, THIS…is not the same.. Is It?"

"I don't know I have never seen anything like it." Sari was looking at the tiny pink digit Steen held in his palm. The little orbs were shaping up to be rounder and a little fuller with fluid. She was becoming concerned for the child.

"Hello the House!" hollered a strong male voice bearing a thick accent from the barnyard outside.

Steen rose up and went to the door of the barn. "Who comes calling?' he responded, his voice a strong unwavering statement, and filled with a tone of iron defense. He was resolved never take another chance, and this morning had been filled with enough excitement to last for a good length of his lifetime.

"What now?" whispered Saks under her breath as she moved closer to the child. Sari shook her head slightly and placed a finger to her lips.

The druid spoke through the latched barn door, "I am Snuff and this is my fellow druid Huit. We are travelers from Kalmindor. The smell of bread was too tempting for my nose to resist."

Raw looked at Sari with an arched eyebrow and mouthed" Kalmindor?" Clearly he was curious. No Druids ever ventured this far into Elwyn Forest.

Steen unlatched the barn door and peeked with one eye thru the slight opening. Sure enough, there stood two druid nightelves, dressed in native leathers from the far off country. He wondered" Could this morning become any stranger?" The priest was fairly shocked at their appearance, and without question, they were what they said to be- Traveling Nightelf Druids. Gathering his manners he welcomed the holy men.

"Greetings gentlemen, please forgive my lack of mannerly welcomes, we have been having a sort of unexpected excitement this morning. Please come into the barn, there's a worg running loose about the place. Can't have you visitors at risk." He opened the barn door wide enough and waved them enter with his hand.

Huit and Snuff entered the barn, the smell of blood and worg, hay and medicine filled the air.

"Is there something we can assist with? Huit here has a way with the animals that is unmatched." Snuff looked about the barn and things seemed fairly calm and pleasant to him. It was then he noticed the stall and people to the left.

He also noticed that was where the trail of the Mekkalee-Pon Ended.

Pulling Huit front and center. Snuff pointed and in a voice, electrified with shock and wonder!

"The Trail! THE TRAIL! SEE? It ends here! Look Huit! A Child! A Child in the Hay!"

The four priests stared at the pair of druids- confusion spread across all their features like a disease.

It was then a tiny "PING!" noise caught all their attention to the child. From a lone fingertip rose a tiny, elemental creature bearing gossamer wings of pale green and gold. It was glittery in appearance and no bigger than half a fingernail. The creature had a small head and slender body and flitted through the air on the minute, sheer –looking, bisected wings which rose slightly from its back. It winked in the streaming sunlight; dodging in and out of the little dust particles and danced upon the brow of the boy on the floor in the golden hay.

PING! PING! PING!

Saks sucked in a hard breath,

"OH MY WORD! SARI! CAN YOU SEE THEM?"

Sariseva couldn't believe her eyes! They were tiny, little creatures that gathered and winked upon the brow of the tiny babe in the hay. The streaming sunlight flickered, like diamond specks, tossed from their gossamer winglets. Never had she seen or heard of any such phenomena!

"What in the world?" Raw was mesmerized by the event unfolding before him. The wee elementals clustered about the child were forming a circlet of golden light above his head. Marudas's fingers were still tapping and his breath became deeper as he began to close his eyes ever so slightly.

Huit and Snuff moved forward toward the child.

"This cannot be! How can a human child show the signs of an elven legend?" Huit whispered to no one in particular, as the scene before him drew him closer to the babe in the corner. Both he and Snuff weren't the best versed in the ancient text, neither one of them had adopted that part of the druish ancient writings as part of their beliefs. To them, this was more legend than fact, making the situation before them, that much more mysterious and unbelievable.

Steen gathered his messy priestly robes and although he was interested in the happenings here in the old barn, his main concern at this point was to gather the small crowd and head back into the rectory. He was tired and annoyed and his mind was swimming from all the activities of the morning. To him it felt like mid-day and it was barely past daybreak. He was fascinated by the elementals but in his reality, they had no meaning. It was a strange occurrence that he would muse about after some hot coffee and cold breakfast.

"Help them up. Let's gather back to the kitchen, there's danger afloat and we need to get Marudas where we can better assess his condition. "Stated Steen as he opened the wooden door to the barn and peered outside for signs of the Worg.

Sariseva gathered the child from Saks arms and Snuff gently helped the beautiful priestess up from her position on the hay strewn floor of the stable. Saks was a mess, her face streaked with tears under her expression of shock and wonder at this small child. This seemingly ordinary child, who obviously was not ordinary in any way; well, in any way that they would have considered ordinary before today had dawned.

"What does this mean?" Raw asked Snuff on the path back to the small kitchen, "Exactly what kind of witchery is this?"

"Not witchery my good man, but a sign from our Goddess Elune. This sign is said to lead to eternal life." Snuff continued, "Huit and I have been following the trail of the Pon for days. That trail has brought us here and to your child in the hay. We both remember that part of the story but, we will have to go back to the ancient writings to educate ourselves as the remainder of the legend. Our sect had written this story off as a fairy tale long ago. No one expected it to hold the truth. Frankly, had I not been here myself, there's no way I would have believed this prophesy to be true. So, to answer your question; I am unsure what it truly means."

The rest of the short walk was spent in shocked silence. Each of the adults lost in thought as to the happenings of the morning. To Sariseva, it seemed unreal, as if it had all been a story thought up by that little elfling Tazeria who lived in the Stormwind Orphanage.

They entered the rectory without incident and Sari laid Marudas upon the small settee in the receiving room; and then covered him with the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the chair. The tiny fairies continued dancing, like a glimmering mist of fine gnats over the boy's head and shoulders, hearing the occasional PING of a new arrival. She checked the boy's fingers and saw to her satisfaction that nearly all the whelps were gone and his hands were mostly back to normal. Unwilling to let the child from her sight, she stood in the doorway to the kitchen where the rest stood eating the now cold breakfast Raw had prepared.

"Well, not exactly what we all had in mind for the start of this beautiful day, but I guess any day that starts is a good day to keep." Raw poured himself a cup of coffee from the hotpot and sat at the small table which was still covered in flour. "Now, what to do with the rest of the day… "He grinned at Sari and the rest of the clergy in his kitchen. He was a total and complete mess, with his long beard stuck together in clumps and stray gray hairs poking out from all directions of his head.

The others weren't in much better shape either. Steen's robes were stained and wrinkled, Saks tears had run the dust from the rafters down her tiny cheeks, and the morning had taken its toll on all of them. Only the Druids appeared remotely presentable.

"Clearly, this child is not human." Snuff was the first to speak out loud.

"He looks completely human to me." Saks turned her gaze to the druid who was munching on a piece of Raw's bread smothered in butter and honey.

"Human?!" Huit nearly spat the word out. "What's wrong with you people? HE HAS MEKKALEE-PON SPRINGING FROM HIS FINGERS! HELLOO?" He stuffed a sliced of bread into his mouth, looked at Raw and with his mouth full said" OH MY!This is good stuff! I MUST have the recipe!"

"Well, human or not there's only one place this child will be going and that is straight to Thorden."

There, Sariseva had said it.

They all knew she was right.

There would be no argument from any of them to her decision. The only safe place for this child would be the Stormwind Cathedral of The Lightbringer.

And Thorden, Leader of the Paladin Community.

For him, there was no choice.

In this child, lay the destiny of the many.


	2. Chapter 2

Swill Remembers

(Segment Two from the Adventures of Tazeria in Azeroth)

He was young, about 10 years of age, when he first met the four elves. Swill sat crossed legged upon the small, soft bed at the orphanage in Stormwind, looking at the still wrapped packages he had received from Great Father Winter. It was cold outside and New Year's Eve preparations had the city in a flurry of excitement.

"They are yours to keep or to give away as you see fit."-Said the plump matron softly as she sat next to the lad on the bed. She reached a hand forward and gently brushed a lock of straight brown hair from his forehead. She smelled ever so slightly of roses.

The boy had never known another home. Abandoned in a basket and left at the top of the stairs of this orphanage 10 years before as a newborn, with no suspect parents, this was all Swill knew. He was a healthy, well-fed infant, and a decade later was already larger and more intelligent than most his age. He was also stubborn, insolent and a bit of a schoolyard bully.

Swill had heard from the town crier about the great massacre by the Horde, at Teldrassil, The Great Tree, which was home to the unusual race of Night Elves. The matrons here at the orphanage had told the children that there would soon be newcomers as a result of the assault.

"There is nothing I want… _in those packages_." He replied to the woman without looking at her face. The matron nodded his direction and knew he spoke the truth, knowing with satisfaction that the child would not regret his decision. She was so proud of this boy.

Swill stood, began quickly gathering each package up, stacking them neatly at the foot of the bed. As he turned to walk though the doorway and down to the Centeroom to be near the warm fire the boy stopped and took a glance back at her smiling face, which was filled with nothing but softness for him.

"They're here?" he asked her quietly.

"Indeed they are." Mrs. Beachnor replied with a light smile.

The boy then turned the corner at the doorway and began to walk rapidly down the large, gray stone flat steps that curved to the Centeroom. He paused at the final step and slowly but curiously, peered around the edge of the wall to silently glimpse his new housemates.

There were four of them, sitting next to each other as close as could be on the sette before the fire. Three were covered in bandages, and the fourth, the only female, was speaking softly in a strange language to the others. She stood straight up off the seat when the elfling spotted Swill peeking at them, her arms spread to the sides as to shield her companions from the onlooker.

"Who are you?" she asked Swill is a strange, attractive, lilting accent which rolled the r and made "you" sound more like "yea".

"I am called Swill." The boy stretched out his hand to offer her a hello, "What are your names?" he shyly asked.

She looked down upon his hand, and thought it to be such a strange gesture for a greeting, but slowly raised hers to his, hoping it was the correct response. Swill grasped her palm and shook it in a very human manner.

"I am Tazeria," she answered, "these are my friends, Drun, Ito and Lefty." She pointed at each of her companions respectively.

"Nice to meet you," Swill reached to shake Ito's hand but Tazeria stopped the gesture lightly but firmly, and in a low voice she said to Swill, "Ito cannot see your hand to respond, He was blinded by a light. They say he will regain his sight but no one really knows."

"What's with the others, their…injuries?" Swill curiously asked the elf, also in a low voice, while looking at the three on the settee.

"Drun cannot hear you, his ears were affected by blasting powder close to his head. And Lefty doesn't speak…. he never really has." She answered.

At that moment, a gray-white ball of smoke began to form behind Swill, curling and rolling and with a POP! And there appeared another boy, about the same age as Swill, behind the pair before the fire. He was smaller than Swill and wore robes of blue and silver. He had no hair.

"Balyon!" cried a startled Swill, as he promptly pushed the new arrival into a large, overstuffed chair. Tazeria jumped toward her friends.

Chuckling, the budding warlock said, "I got you guys good."…. grinning from ear to ear he popped up from the chair and pulled his wand from his sleeve. " I think some nice hot cider for our new family is in order."

The Transformation

Present Day:

The large, beautifully crafted shield lay heavily across Swill's muscled forearm. His sword, gripped tightly in his right hand, reflecting the red, glinting light from the unusual sun in Shadowmoon Valley. His body screamed, readied to charge the scene before him, conflicting with his soldiers' instinct, which compelled him to wait for the opportune moment for the initial strike. His breath was heavy, his skin rippled with "warrior fire", he looked to his right, where Whisten, his battle mate, had stood only a moment before.

She had shifted into Bear form, and no matter how many times he'd witnessed it, Swill marveled as if the first time, at this ability of the Druid. The beast, fierce and snarling, was massive and hulking-a silvery-gray thick fur covering a bulk of terrifying muscle and sinew. Whisten's long jaws; contained large, sharp teeth and huge canines that promised certain death.

Whisten had turned Feral Blood. The only way she could release the transformation was to kill an enemy in battle, or to be killed herself; there was no other option for those Druids who chose the Feral Blood Path.

The ways of the druid had always been a mystery to Swill; he expressed no desire to give any deeper understanding of them either. He wasn't uncomfortable around shape shifters; he simply didn't care to expand his knowledge of their practices. All he concerned himself with was that Whisten was in command and control of the Feral Blood Path because if she lost her discipline, things would be ugly, in a hurry, for all of them.

He was sure of this one fact- Whisten was deadly, disciplined and second to none in her battlefield, front- line skill.

As for Whisten- well, for her there had been no other choice.

Whisten stood outside the orphanage with her small, finely shaped nose pressed lightly against the frost-ringed glass, peeking in at the six small people inside. Her presence was unnoticed by those within the Centeroom where the cheery fire flamed and a hotpot of cider and warm mugs appeared upon the low table in front of the settee. It was cold where she stood, but she ignored the shivers that ran trails of gooseflesh up and down her arms.

She had just done the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, in her short 25 years of life. The beautiful, skilled healer brought and gave the four elflings to the matrons, of the Stormwind Orphanage. Whisten held her gaze upon them for a full three minutes, standing in the cold at that window, as to engrain the lasting picture of the six inside the building, to her memory. Her gaze lingered upon Tazeria. She bit back the tears threatening to overflow into the cold frame of the window ledge.

She was done.

As Whisten turned, sadly and slowly from the window, for her unknown destination, she felt it happen. It was physical and began as a small hunger in her gut; the hunger became a twist, the twist a knot, the knot a rolling, cramping hard rock. The pain was immense and searing to the core of her being. She doubled over but didn't fall, her hands gripping her midsection, kneading the pained flesh beneath her cloak. Her breath caught in her chest and she let out a cry, but to her surprise and confusion, the sound of a growling, low roar of a wild animal in pain, and not the squeak of an elf- maid, came from her throat.

Whisten took several stumbling steps forward to grab the railing of the huge expanse of steps that lead upward to the Stormwind Cathedral of the Lightbringer. The contractions of her midsection were making it difficult for her to draw breath; she was beginning to become dizzy. Hand over hand; using the railing for support, she pulled her pained body up one step at a time. Whisten felt her knees weaken and she dropped to the cold, hard stone of the stair. Her body was heaving with agony-filled, growling gasps for air as she crawled on hand and knee to reach the platform at the top of the stair. It was all she could bear; she collapsed in a ball, shut her eyes tightly and pulled into a tight bundle all the while rolling from side to side in an effort to ease the deep burning in her gut.

"What's happening to me!" she cried inwardly.

At that precise thought, a soothing calm response entered her thought patterns as a smooth, low female voice that was warm and healing in her mind.

"Do not fight the path of the soul young druid, you must embrace the change, and know that we are here for you"

With that, Whisten's world went dark.

She began to awaken as warm hands pressed their palms to her grimaced face and stroked her cheeks until they smoothed, she was no longer on the steps, in the cold. She felt warm and safe, soft down comforters that smelled like spices now covered her from head to toe. She felt no more pain. Slowly Whisten began to open her eyes, still unsure of all the events that had just occurred to her.

As the druid peeked from under heavily lidded eyes, she saw a tall, beautiful woman with long, strawberry blond hair, dressed in shimmering, white, long robes trimmed in light yellow and deep purple. Standing next to this woman was a very, very short man.

Whisten blinked; she had never seen someone so short! He wore a long beard, and was regally dressed in white, loose fitting pants and knee length tunic, which were both, trimmed in pure gold. He was magnificent! The dwarf stood straight-spine and inspected the young elf's face intently.

His short legs took two small steps close to her bed, his eyes looking directly in to hers.

"I'm Thorden, head of Stormwind Cathedral of the Lightbringer, which is where you find yourself today lass. I trust Sariseva has brought you to health once again", he bowed gracefully, his stubby fingers touching his gold waistband. "Now that you're awake, I shall leave you two to your business." The Paladin gave Whisten a smile, bowed deeply to Sariseva and turned on his boot heel and left the room.

Sari sat on the edge of the bed where Whisten lay, and noticed they were about the same age, "I'm Sariseva, healing priestess for Thorden," she smiled lightly, "you were in transition when I found you on the stairs. Tell me what happened to you before this took place, if you're not too tired."

Whisten found her voice; it was horse and didn't sound like herself. She recounted everything to Sari, from the moment the Horde had come to Teldrassil, until bringing the elflings to the orphanage. She was breathless and shaking by the time she was done her tale.

Sariseva was horrified.

"Never again," said Whisten, her eyes becoming hard as two pale shards of ice as she stared at Sariseva… will I heal those who I do not first, protect."

Sari nodded in agreement. The two knew at that moment, that they had a bond that transcended their gifts for healing.

"Let's get you dressed." Sari spoke as she hopped up from the bed and headed to a beautiful armoire in the corner of the room. She pulled the door open and removed a lovely warm green gown with silver brocade. It glittered and had a light silvery glow about it.

"This gown has a healing enchantment on it that will help you with your unexpected transitions. Seresta created the gown and then enchanted it just for you." Sari carried the gown to Whisten.

"It's fabulous!" Whisten's face beamed with delight. Suddenly, a puzzled look came upon her and she turned to Sari and asked:

"Who's Seresta?"

"Seresta is my younger sister who lives here, with me, at the Cathedral. She is very talented in tailoring and enchanting." Sari smiled a bit and added, "For what it's worth, she is great friends with those children from the orphanage. She also spends a good deal of time with Balyon." clarified Sariseva.

Whisten watched Sari's face frown a bit at that final statement, and although concerned, didn't feel it her place to press the issue for an explanation. The druid reasoned that time would find her the reason for Sari's frown soon enough. The woman also had the distinct impression that if it were a troublesome situation, Sari wouldn't allow it, and for now, that had to be enough solace to carry her cares away from any present, regretful thought.

After all, what was done was done.

There was no going back on her choices.

As Whisten slipped into the magnificent gown, she instantly felt the enchantment calm her core being. The material was soft against her skin and when she turned to the mirror to admire herself draped in the garment, was startled to see two young faces popping back from the doorway behind her reflection! With a jump she turned quickly;

"Who are the little spies?" she asked Sari.

"Ah, they would be Seresta and Marudas." Sari answered without turning around to look.

"Sometimes they can be quite the curious pair and have been watching us this whole time. Marudas came a short while ago to live here. Thorden has adopted the boy as a son. We're happy to have him with us."

Sari smiled to herself.

"The child has taken a liking to Seresta (Sari seemed a bit puzzled about that) but I think it's good for my sister to have a friend she can care for." Raising her voice slightly the priestess said," Come here you two and meet our guest properly." Sari directed the children into the tiny room.

Seresta was holding Marudas' hand as they cautiously rounded the corner and stepped into full view. The toddler had Seresta's apron pulled halfway down her hip and was covering his face with it from the nose down. His finger prints, in blue, dotted the entire front of the white material, Seresta didn't seem to care much about that though and boldly walked up to Whisten with an outstretched hand and a curtsey.

Whisten eagerly smiled at the pair of peepers," Hello there. I am Whisten, nice to meet you." She extended her hand in the manner in which she witnessed the young boy inside the orphanage greet Tazeria.

Instantly, she noticed a mark on the inside of Seresta's right wrist. It appeared to have been a burn of sort which had since healed. The mark was triangular in shape, with a single wavy line underneath. Druids knew this to be the mark of the magical ones.

Inwardly, Whisten was SHOCKED but held her emotion well. She also held in the myriad of questions she now had about this sister. How in the heck can there be a sister of light and healing, to also have the blood of one born with the mark of the magic? A warlock and a healer from the same family! She would never have guessed this as a possibility, but then the total destruction of her village was never a possibility in her mind either. She immediately quashed that thought as it surfaced with a shudder.

"My pleasure" Seresta met Whisten eye to eye. Whisten sucked in a breath at the beauty of the preteen girl. Her long, pitch black hair, and her face was the mirror image of a younger Sariseva. Seresta's eyes were greener then the finest of summer grass, and her walk, even at her young age, was regal and flowing; her curtsey, that of a practiced ballerina.

Marudas hid behind the apron and flatly stated "NO!" loud enough for everyone on that wing of the building to hear.

Whisten giggled as she looked at the boy hiding his face, the fingers of his which she was able to see were covered in blue clay and grasping the apron tightly around his face. She noticed he was sticking his tongue out behind the material. A big wet spot where he'd been chewing on the material surrounded the area.

"You must be Mr. Marudas." She smiled down at the lad and extended her hand to him as well.

Quick as a whip Marudas jumped from behind Seresta and licked Whisten's palm, leaving a sloppy wet spot of spit and blue clay. He giggled loudly and ran to the doorway dragging Seresta with him.

Whisten looked at her hand, then back at Sari, surprise all over her expression.

"Like I said before,' she grinned at her friend, "He's new."

Present day:

**Fusion**

Tinged red fingers of the dawning sun crept into Stormrages' chambers like a thief. Instinct high and on full alert, he focused his thoughts on the source of his unrest as he continued his pacing the long path from one end of the room to the other.

Something was different.

Experience had long taught him to trust his gut feelings. One did not become this powerful by mistake or simple chance. But there was a threat, a threat so large he could no longer deny that his position was indeed in jeopardy.

"But from where…who"

… questioned his own thoughts, a slow breath hissed between his teeth and he felt the blood in his veins begin to surge as no answer presented itself. Frustrated, he began his pacing the path which had become so familiar to him over the last seven hours; all the while his brain ticking and searching for the clue to his unrest. His thoughts trailed…to near madness.

Miles away, at that same moment, Swill whispered his three closest friends, and said, "The time has come. Meet in Ironforge." The cryptic message signaled the friends that indeed this was the moment they had been awaiting. Loyalty, and the promise of triumphant battles to come, baited them. One boarded the tram, one a griffin and the last the boat. Each lost in thought of the meeting to come.

The three friends, met on the bridge, and with a slight nod in one another's direction, said not a word but stood, side by side, each looking to the crowd for the face they traveled so far to see…

…looking for he who had summoned them.

Swill, who had recently been imprisoned for four months, for reasons unknown to the friends, had returned.

He silently moved in from the crowd behind them and they jumped as he startled them as he snapped, "You three took too long," a little too loudly for their somber mood.

Swill walked across the bridge and the friends followed. Once they were seated inside the inn with fresh mugs of Dwarvian Stout in their hands he leaned in across the table and in a voice hushed, laden with urgency and strength, he said one word and one word only,

'Vindication."

With that word, miles away in the treacherous area known as Shadowmoon Valley, Illidan Stormrage roared.


	3. Chapter 3

HOSTAGE

The day after the meeting in Ironforge, Swill found himself home, in the fair city of Stormwind. He'd come to visit old Mrs. Beachnor at the orphanage, and as was his tradition, leave whatever gold he had behind for the children. It was also his way of calming his mind. Seeing the children running to him as their big brother, made the warriors heart swell with emotion. He smiled inwardly at this thought.

His own days at the orphanage had been pleasant and as full as an orphan could expect; but never a male to look up to, never a man to confide in as a young man. Mrs. Beachnor was the only mother he'd known and she had done the best she could with him. He had her love, but even then, he had been the man of the house. Today though, even visiting home couldn't provide the pacification of mind he needed.

The news he received yesterday was grave indeed; his very soul was unsettled, as if it were waiting for something. He knew the sketchy plan they had designed together at the dwarvian pub was a mere outline of what actions they needed to take. He stared down into the near empty pewter ale mug and closed his eyes, vaguely wondering how he was going to pay for the brew, then just as quickly realizing that same thought to be the least of his worries for now.

There was trouble ahead. Trouble as hadn't been seen in a good many years. He felt it in his stomach; it rolled across his soul, and sat sentinel on the edges of his mind. Warrior fire, like tiny threads, ran tingles under his skin and he shuddered at the reality of what that could mean for him.

"Hostage"….. "How in the heck could this have happened?" thought Swill to himself as he leaned back in the solid wooden chair and let his head roll from shoulder to shoulder tasting the last sip of lager roll across his tongue. Hostage in the Black Temple…that had been the news he received before he called the meeting.

Ito, his good friend and trusted ally was captive somewhere in the cold, dark caverns below the Black Temple, home to Illidan Stormrage. Swill's tortured memory knew only too well what Ito's fate would soon be if swift action was not soon employed. The question posed was not whether or not Ito could be rescued, but how and most importantly when, he could make it happen. Time was all-important, and hope beyond hope, Ito still lived.

He must assemble the team…THE team.

It was late evening, and shadows were creeping in to the corners of the Gilded Rose Inn. An exhausted Swill looked at the patrons in the pub, each so unaware of the threat to their very existence, "Pathetic ignorance." He thought callously, and with that thought, he stopped dead.

Something… was in that corner.

He slowly reached down to grasp his mighty sword, a sword that had conquered so many beasts and wayward men, but… his hand came up empty. Panicked, the warrior sprang from the wooden chair and frantically searched the ground beneath the table. Cold sweat ran a slight trickle down the nape of his neck.

"Looking for something?" said a husky female voice from the very shadow of the corner.

Swill spun to see his treasured sword dangle ling from the fingertips of the Nightelf, who had not been there a moment before…

"Frikkin rogues!" he snapped as he snatched his weapon from her lithe fingers. Clearly annoyed he turned to pick his money belt from the table, which was now, also mysteriously gone, and heard the slight giggle.

He glared hard at Tazeria, "Where is it?" he demanded.

With a shrug Taz turned and said "Didn't take the belt" …then again another giggle from the shadowed corner tinkled forth.

Swill was about to bust with frustration when Dantebree slide forth from the shadow, the belt wrapped neatly around her head.

She pointed at the headdress with a long index finger, "About all its good for…head accessory….. Not a copper in there. By the way Taz paid the beer tab." Bree said flatly to Swill as she untied the leather belt and tossed it in his direction.

Tazeria swung her leg over the back of the chair Swill had recently vacated, and sat hard in the seat, blocking his way to the exit.

"Swill," she said his name in a harsh breath and locked her gaze to his, "'Bree and I are going…Xanuth and Arturok are at the Shadowmoon camp waiting for you." Taz lowered her gaze and her voice became soft, she looked skyward and with a sigh she spoke:

"I can feel him" she barely whispered, Terror ran a cold finger up Tazeria's spine as she voiced this to her commander.

Swill, nodded at her," As can I. We must make our move, go then Taz, we will meet you there."

**ZELIS**

Zelis picked up the raw chunk of boar meat and slapped it down on the oval tin plate. Using his small knife, he began to carve the still warm flesh into bite size pieces. He was mindlessly thinking to himself that it had been quite some time since he had last used a tether of any sort to control his now trained, prized raptor, Triceptaplot.

Zangarmarsh had never really been his favorite camp, (Dwarves liked the cold compared to the heat of a marsh) however, things being what they were, his choice was limited. Here, at least, there was the cover of trees.

What he didn't know was Tazeria, Dantebree and some of the others had already been dispatched to Shadowmoon Valley.

He was confused and tried to reason out why he still hadn't heard anything from the main company.

The waiting truly was the hardest part.

He hacked his small blade against the meat with unnecessary force. His jaw tightened a bit.

As the hunter tossed a bloody hunk towards the beast he noticed what at first appeared to be a large firefly, hovering ever so lightly next to his pet.

Curious, Zelis moved in to get a closer look.

Spore bats of regular size and shape were common in Zangarmarsh; however, tiny spore bats were kept only by inhabitants of Sporeggar, and by those who came to know these local inhabitants as their own.

Those select few, who kept these small creatures outside of Zangarmarsh, were rare indeed. This animal was different; it bore a brand upon its back, an unmistakable letter "T" with curls and flourish, identifying its master as none other than Tazeria.

Zelis slowly stretched a stubby, right index finger out toward the creature as an invitation for the little bat to perch upon, all the while pondering that something didn't feel quite right about this encounter. The animal accepted the offer quickly, as if tired of flitting about and in need of rest.

The smell came slowly at first to this hunter, and in surprise, the familiar putrid odor emitted from the little bat brought horror-shock to Zelis.

There was only one place in this land where that smell was present…gut tingling, he realized this tiny bat had been inside the depths of The Black Temple. He knew then, beyond doubt, that Tazeria must already be within the Temple and separated from this pet only by force.

Realization dawning, Zelis stood quickly, grabbed his knapsack and the rolled up map from the small table inside the tent and quickly exited toward the four figures circling the campfire outside.

"Odage!" he addressed the rogue authoritatively, handing the map to him, "Take Gensui, Marudas and Frigne. Tazeria is in trouble. I know not who else may be with her. Fly to The Black Temple, I will meet you there. Stop for nothing along the way, we have no time to spare."

With that, Zelis turned and emitted a low whistle from a curled tongue behind rounded lips. A large buff skin colored ram, saddled and bridled with fine basilisk leather tack, appeared from behind a low hanging, willow type tree. To the left of the ram, a large black hound, Sheba, and to the right of the ram, a solid white, unusually large lynx, Cassana; to the rear of this trio, the ground shook with thunder as Triceptaplot joined the group.

Zelis had the entire escort such a short journey required.

The two Horde watched Zelis depart, hidden behind the low branches of the wispy tree.

Zormeg grinned at Phoebus.

The Banner of the Goblin Tide

The balcony of Snuff's cottage in The Stormpeak was frigid that morning. The light, silent snow of perfectly fashioned flakes casually drifted down from the overcast sky creating a fine dusting of white across the latticework. This sight, which was very pleasing to the commander's eyes; was also the only comfortable event in his world presently. The druid lifted his hot cup of honey mint tea to his face and stole a deep breath of the fragrant mist that wafted from the brew.

He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

The decision had not been easy, and weighed heavily on his mind. Nonetheless, he knew it was the only choice open to him. Having both leaders present at The Black Temple for Ito's rescue was not in the best interest of the Vindication Clan, and the family security must be considered in matters such as these.

The Druid offered a silent prayer of protection to the Goddess Elune for the safe delivery of his troops in Shadowmoon Valley.

The first word had come to him late yesterday afternoon from a most unlikely source. While tending to his lichbloom garden on the west side of the mountain property, a tiny goblin appeared seemingly out of nowhere, shocking Snuff to alertness from his semi-dazed state of auto gardening.

"Yo!" started the goblin in his irritating high-pitched voice as he materialized from the bushes. "I have led a peaceful visitor to you. He brings urgent news from Outland that you must know. He has paid me well in gold for the seal of my lips on the matter once this meeting's end has taken place. His gold has also purchased my interpretation skill in your language. He asks that you recognize the Banner of Goblin Tide and raise no hand or sword during this encounter. He has vowed to recognize this truce to convey this urgent message. Will you cooperate?"

Snuff quickly checked his reaction to grab his staff in defense and became instantly suspicious, questioning the tiny green man,

"Who seeks me at my retreat?" He demanded, pulling himself straight to his full height and bearing his presence hard on the small creature. The trees behind the druid began to quiver and shudder, almost as though they were being called to arms, but not with a force that would bend their roots to the sun, but in a manner of impressed, higher degree of alertness.

The goblin shifted his weight nervously, one eye on the trees, one eye on the Great Commander. With a wave of his thin elongated fingers appeared Phoebus, from behind a large Oakwuld Tree.

Phoebus! A Soldier of Horde Nobility and Grand Foe to the Alliance, Leader of the greatest of Horde Clans, skilled hunter and of Orcish heritage, stood straight backed at the edge of Snuff's garden.

Snuff did his best to hide his shock and surprise at such a visitor, but try as he may; the tiny upturn of Phoebus' upper lip told him his reaction did not go unnoted. The elf gained control and cautiously nodded in the direction of the infamous horde, but spoke to the goblin.

"Whatever I say, I bind you to repeat word for word, Under the Banner of the Goblin Tide, do you agree goblin?" demanded Snuff, never taking his eyes from the infamous horde.

"I am bound by the honor of The Banner, Sir." The goblin gave a crooked low bow in Snuff's direction."

"Speak!" ordered the Druid.

**The Rogues**

**~~~~~While Zelis had been hunting the meat for his prehistoric pet, things had been happening, Events the dwarf had no way of knowing. You see, the soldier who was sent to give Zelis the plans for Ito's rescue had betrayed them all. The message had never left this betrayer who was now inside the Black Temple, seated to the right of Illidan Stormrage himself.~~~~**

The two rogues were mounted on their drakes high above the Black Temple. The gentle rolling motion of the winged creatures beating time with their very breath, Bree turned to Taz and with a gulp let out a long, drawn out, loud belch in her direction.

"Gawd woman! I can smell that alcohol from here!" said Tazeria waving her small hand in front of her nose. Taz knew that her trusted friend was more than ready for the mission, which lay before them, but was compelled to ask anyway.

"You good to go 'Bree?'

"Aye.. I am indeed."…hic.. And another burp bubbled forth.

Tazeria shook her head slightly and began to lower her drake in the direction of the east patio; her tiny spore bat flitting alongside the large dragon like a gnat on a summer eve.

They would have to repel down the side wall while stealthed and slip between half a dozen guards before they came to the faulty rock that loosely covered an old unused servant entrance. Once there, they would be at the mercy of the labyrinth of corridors and would have to rely on more instinct than knowledge to navigate their way to discover Ito's exact location under the structure.

Dislodging the loose bricks was far easier and less noisy than Taz had expected, the corridor was damp and stunk of rot and mold. The walls slick with a dark slime that is only present in areas, which have never seen the light of day. The pair silently made their way down hall after hall, descending lower with every step. A loud thud and simultaneous clanking of lock told them they had found their mark. The rogues had found their target. The Orc Sentinel's back was to them as he jingled the chain with the keys to the cell into his pocket.

The guard guffawed as he loudly bellowed," That'll teach you scrub!" through the now duel- locked, solid cell door. There was blood running down his meaty hand, and his left eye was swollen shut and bruised.

"Yes! Taz thought excitedly… Ito lives! Rage filled her being at this foul smelling jailor and anger burned her chest that this pig would dare touch the man in the cell.

She could….not…help… herself. (The rogues were only supposed to discover Ito's location without being detected and then report back to Freon and Swill, who were outside on the rock.)

Well, so much for that idea.

Enraged at the abuse she knew had taken place, the rogue's blood began to boil searing-hot rage. Before Tazeria could contain herself, she howled, leaped at the captor and in one swift motion of her deadly, slender hand, laid her lethal dagger across his meaty throat.

"You DARE touch him you warthog!" She hissed in his face, his putrid breath mingling with her own. Bree slide in behind her and in a flash picked first one lock and then the second with her master thief skills.

'ITO!' 'Bree yelled, loudly, thru the door- and with that warning yell, a large orcly fist connected with the back of her head and all went dark.

Tazeria quickly thrust her weight and might against the huge mongrel she held at dagger point, using his body to force the now unlocked door to slam open and they slide through the room on the other side of the entrance, and fell as a heap on the muddy floor. The jailor's weight fell on top of her body, nearly suffocating her with its stench.

Taz's dagger flew across the small space.

The Orc grunted a chuckle and in what seemed to be a distorted smile, pulled her arms above her head.

"NO!" she struggled against his pressing form.

A low- menacing growl began to rumble from the darkest corner of this cell where Ito was chained. The mighty warrior's muscles strained beyond known limits and the chains that held the powerful Nightelf were torn from and unbolted from their ancient brick fastenings.

Ito was unbound.

Bree groaned as she awakened; face down on the slick floor of the entryway to the chamber where Ito was held captive. Her head throbbed and she squinched her eyes at the pain. Her daggers beneath her, handles digging deep into her hip bone making her position that much more uncomfortable. Oblivious to anything but the pain, she sucked in a breath of foul air.

She smelled him before she ever saw him. Her eye's snapped wide open.

Before she could react, The Orc, muscled and stocky pounced upon her small frame, nearly crushing her with his weight. 'Bree's cheek pressed against the dampness of the floor beneath her. There was a pulse-like grunting coming from the back of his throat that only she, could hear. She panicked, shock and terror electrified her skin as she struggled to reach her daggers but to no avail.

"I never miss an opportunity…" He breathed in to her left ear in a voice that was low and gravely. 'Bree squirmed and wiggled against his bulk, her actions seeming to excite the aggressor even more, his hands exploring her curves. Her mind went frantic as her free hand grasped for something …ANYTHING…to help her defend herself.

The guard slid a solid arm under her stomach and spun 'Bree's body onto her back. Now, his face, inches from her own he chortled at her failing attempts at freedom from his grasp.

The shift in position was just enough…. Tazeria's dagger, which had been dislodged from her minutes before, had found its way to "Bree's searching fingertips.

'Bree snatched the weapon and with a cry powered by white fear mingled with rage inhuman, sunk the dagger through his back, his lung and then his heart, and his death was instant. Hot, dark red blood oozed from the Orc's mouth and dripped onto 'Bree's neck.

Panting she shoved his body from her, struggling with the weight pushing him off inch by inch.

With a final shove and loud grunt, she was free. She stood and stared down, panting with adrenaline fused breath, at her kill by her feet. She spat on his chest and with her left hand grabbed his pointy left ear, and with one fluid sleek motion of the silver dagger, sliced the ear from the guards' skull. She held the trophy between her thumb and forefinger high above her head and a slight giggle followed by a belch came from her mouth.

The sound of metal grinding against stone snapped her back to reality.

"Ito!" she thought, and raced to the adjacent chamber.

At the same point in time, Freon stood on a rather large rocky formation about half a mile from the side entrance of the Temple. He had been eagle- eyeing the entrance to the temple for sign of the rogues for twenty minutes or better.

"They're in". He thought as he lowered the long, brass spyglass from his searching eye. He had seen the tumble of old rock from the side of the temple and silently prayed that uncovering that entry had been as silent there as it was here on the rock for him

He had seen the small opening appear, as if by magic, as the silent, invisible rogues made their way into the depths of the ages old building known as The Black Temple. He knew the next few hours may be his last in this foul land, and he intended to leave his mark upon it…whether he survived or not, today- THIS day, the vermin who guarded this place would know his name evermore.

The distraction of the guards had to happen fast, error free and in such a fashion as to allow the rogues' time to infiltrate the dark, lower depths of this place, where he knew Ito was held hostage.

"Xanuth!"..His commanding voice echoed off the backdrop of a solid rock cliff, "Gather the troops…time to ride. There's no room for mistakes here..And… I… mean… **NONE**! See that they each understand that- or there will be HELL… TO…PAY!" His voice punctuated each word.

Xanuth saluted and spun swiftly, turning in the direction of the ten, armor clad figures gathered about a small water well, pointing and directing each to their mount.

Freon raised the spyglass to his eye for one last look about the area, ensuring his original assessment of their position. In the distance he saw, what appeared at first to be a small flock of dark birds, slightly out of position …maybe half a dozen or so, but quite out of place for this remote location.

He hesitated and continued to peer, narrowing his eye just a bit, as to clear and decipher the slight vision before him. Then he saw the red and gold of their tabard colors, on every rider and recognized that it was not foe, but friend, who rode the wings of these drakes in the sky above.

"How the hell did they know we'd be here? And more, what the hell do you suppose they want?" Swill asked Freon in a confused voice.

"I dunno." He said in a low response, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "But you can bet it ain't for Tea and Mingo's Fortune Giblets."

With that said, the fliers descended, still mounted upon their mighty drakes, landing on the rock, encircling the pair of leaders. A flurry of red and gold colored, ornately decorated material, whipped at their legs.

Odage, the rogue, Gensui, the shadow priest, Marudas and Frigne their Paladins, all belonged to the family Vindication, the only people known to Alliance, ever to have made it out of this Black Temple of doom, alive.

Odage had a seriousness about him that was regal and unchallenged by the common man. He took two short strides and with a straight back stood before Swill with a rolled parchment in his outstretched hands.

"I bring you a map of the tunnels, and offer my blade to assist you in their safe return." Odage stated to Swill, his eyes searching for a sign that his help would be needed.

Suddenly, a large commotion broke out near the east wall, where the two rogues had entered not long before.

Freon screamed "MOVE OUT! GO GO GO!"

The orcs had come.

ITO

Ito's muscles tore and strained against the heavy rusted, iron cuffs as he felt them dig into his wrists. Ignoring pain and injury, he gritted his teeth, face contorted into a mask of strain and concentration. His will unbroken, he mustered a huge surge of strength, and pulled the very bolts from the ancient fastenings of the slick, dark stone wall.

A slight trickle of blood ran a line from his arm, rolling down the thick chain that connected the two cuffs on either wrist. He curled his hands and snapped the chain straight and in one heroic lunge, wrapped it around the guards' thick neck. Ito tightened the chain and crossed his hands behind the orc's head and began to squeeze, his massive build shadowing and dwarfing the orc's stocky frame.

"Get your hands off her… you damned dirty orc!" He growled, the pressure of the chain bulging the orc's eyes, his tongue fat between pursed lips. Ito jerked the guard's head back and with a loud SNAP! Broke the jailor's neck, using the very chains which the guard had imprisoned Ito with, as the tool for his death.

Tazeria lay on the floor with a stunned look upon her face, her hair wild, and the smell of the guard still fresh in her nostrils. Ito slowly knelt beside her, flushed from the struggle, to gently help her sit up, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary upon her shoulders.

"The key!" said Taz as she quickly reached to search the pockets of the guard's smelly britches. She located the small, bronze colored key and in a flash unlocked the chains from Ito's wrists. She threw them mightily against the far wall where they clanked and fell to the ground. Finally! Ito was free, she looked at his face and there was a slight smile upon his lips, she returned that look with a dazzling, wickedly impish grin.

"What the hell!" 'Bree yelled, as she ran in to the room, observing the dead jailor and her two grinning friends,

"You pair of asshats! Sure, I see how it is! "She yelled.

"I'm out THERE (she pointed to the hallway)… about to be seeded by this bastards' (she kicked at the dead orc) stinking boyfriend, …and you two are in HERE (she shook Tazeria's dagger at the pair on the floor) like it's a frikkin' prom date!"

'Bree was pissed, she stomped her foot and let out a long drawn out belch directed at the two on the nasty floor.

"Oh and here's your dagger wench." She giggled as she slapped the sticky, blood covered handle of the silver weapon into Tazeria's palm. Taz looked down at the bloody mess in her hand and then back up at 'Bree. Their eyes met and locked staring hard at one another. Ito stood up, ready to intervene when suddenly, both rogues broke out into uncontrollable chuckles.

"Bitch," said Tazeria grinning at her friend…"Hooker" 'Bree shot back at her with a smile.

With that, the ceiling above them began to quake and roll; a deep grinding noise of iron gates being opened above them filled the room. The smell that sunk in to the chamber was overpowering.

The trio snapped to attention and headed towards the corridor. They stopped dead at the door where they had first discovered their friend. Ito looked searching both right and then left.

"What? What is it Ito?" asked Taz in a small voice.

"The Orc's are free…and they are headed for us."

The One Glaive

"Orcs! Coming for us! Mother Pus Bucket!" swore a startled 'Bree as she glanced both left and right down the curving, dank hallways that had led the rogues to Ito's holding cell beneath the Black Temple. She saw nothing, however the smell was such that her throat constricted, and there was a shudder of the ground as a hundred running feet headed toward their location. The corridor was lit by one simple, rusted oil sconce from which a small, tired flame weakly flickered above the orcish corpse that lay on the slick stone.

Ito bent down to grab the short sword from the hip of the still warm, dead jailor lying on the damp incline. Noticing the missing ear of the dead guard, he raised an eyebrow to Dantebree,

"Nice work there, sicko. How many does that make now?"

'Bree shrugged her response at Ito, "Not sure, but the number's gonna get a lot higher if we don't get the hell out of here NOW. Which way did we come in Taz? ….Taz?" "Bree spun quickly, in every direction, instantly alert, eyes scanning the dimly lit area for her friend.

"Shhh..don't say a word! Stealth NOW! Hurry! I am here. In a nook near the lamp" whispered Tazeria in a rapid breath.

'Bree vanished and sprinted to the nook, Ito met her there in four long strides, just barely shadowmelding before the troop of Black Temple orcs trotted past them. The three held their breaths, flattened their backs against the slimy wall, their hearts pounding in sync with the orcs feet as they trotted past them down the sloping corridor, merely inches from the trio's faces.

The olive-skinned orc's were stocky and shorter than the lithe elves. Their eyes, tiny and shrunken from generations of living beneath the Black Temple, coupled with little contact with the harshly muted sun of Shadowmoon Valley, bore a harsh contrast to the Nightelves superior ability to see well, in dark places. Ito counted two rows of fifteen, heading to the chamber nearby.

He grabbed Tazeria's hand and in the sign language they had learned as elflings in the orphanage, conveyed the orcs number to the rogue, in the unspoken hand language of the palm.

"We cannot win against so great a number. There are only we three, you are weak from captivity and, though she doesn't show it, 'Bree, is injured." Taz signed into Ito's palm.

Ito's fingers flurried in Tazeria's open hand,

"We, are getting out of here, find your mettle my friend, this is our only chance. Prepare to run left on the count of three once the last orc has passed us by."

As they drew their strength together and prepared to leave the nook, the trotting feet of the orcs came to an abrupt halt. Guttural, deeply amazed whispers faintly echoed off the ancient walls, filled with awe and shock…

The elves heard the many orcs dark, low voices clearly surprised ….

….."THE GLAIVE…THE MASTER"S GLAIVE….THE MISSING ONE…..THE GLAIVE…

In the faint light, he showed himself, the red and gold tabard proudly graced his chest and he stood to reveal himself briefly to the orcs as bait before the vanish…

Odage held the glaive above his head and challenged the troop in a loud commanding voice.

"I AM THE ONE YOU SEEK…. COME-TAKE IT FROM ME IF YOU DARE!

And with that, the masterful rogue vanished from sight, as the three bolted like bullets from the nook.


	4. Chapter 4

Tazeria Remembers Balyon's Gift

~~Fifteen years before, on this very same day, the young people had aged so that the orphanage was filled with teenagers.

Balyon had begun to practice the warlock's art of "stoning". The practice consisted of creating and enchanting common looking stones with abilities which the user could employ in different ways. There were stones you could use to become invisible for a short period of time, some mended cuts and bruises, others allowed short term communication between parties (often called whispers and fashioned into earrings).

Anyone could use many types of these stones and they were sold on the open market to the public, Other stones were for use by warlocks only; still other types of stones could only be used only by the medical community to help heal others. The list was endless. A good stone-maker could become very wealthy in society and Balyon intended to become the best Stoner ever.

He and Seresta had become quite good at making them and were considered the best in class. During his last class, Bal had decided to make his first Soul-Stone. This stone gave the user the ability to help restore a piece of the soul where mending was necessary. It could be used to help a soul recover from a bad experience of life, or accept love from the user to restore confidence and yes, even to restore life to a waning, injured or dying soul.

Today he was making such a stone for Tazeria and was giving it as a present to her for her birthday. He had never made one before, so it meant something to him to give it to her.

Warlocks were encouraged not to give out their first created stones of any nature until their skill was measured by the stone council (the profession was highly regulated, especially since the capacity to earn a great deal of money was attached to good Stoners), however Balyon felt confident in his abilities and knew Taz would know he cared enough to give her a "first" version of any stone made by a Stone-Master, especially one who would become rich and renown (Balyon was filled with such a vision of himself, it was something he'd always known he would become.).

He worked for several classes perfecting the intensity of the enchantment, measuring and re-measuring materials for the enchantment. He carved the yellow stone until it was smooth and flat on one side and rounded nicely on the opposite side.

He placed mithril loops on either side and threaded the neck chain through the ends. He had Seresta place it around her neck to see if it fell on the hollow of her throat to ensure it was choker style. Tazeria never wore long chains since she was studying to become an alchemist and sometimes long chains would get in the way of bubbling beakers of various sizes.

Seresta thought it was the prettiest piece he'd ever made (so far anyways) and it made her so happy to see him satisfied with a job well done! As he left class that day, he slipped the smooth, yellow rock into his pocket and carried it home to the orphanage, wrapped it up and tied it with a blue ribbon.

It was her birthday.

Tazeria lay awake in the warm, small bed inside the Stormwind Orphanage, having yet to open her eyes to the still dark, pre-dawn room. A slight ruffle of movement from the bed next to hers slowly roused her eyelids open. Her sister, Taneria, lay sleeping peacefully for the first time in the six years since they had come to the Home.

A tinge of guilt washed over Tazeria with sharp clarity, instantly clearing away any sleepiness that remained in her brain.

She sat up and reached to open the small drawer of the bedside stand where she had placed the seven sealed letters the night before. Each envelope bore a name penned in her hand; she thumbed through the short stack and found the one addressed to Taneria, removed it, and quietly leaned over to the adjourning bed to slip it beneath the sleeping elflings pillow.

As Tazeria gazed at her sleeping sister, hot tears burned at the back of her eyes and she fought them with all she could muster. "There will be no tears," she thought…. her mind was made up. She leaned over and brushed a light kiss on Tan's forehead and tucked the white flannel blanket snugly around her sleeping sibling.

Quietly, Tazeria made her way across the room to the armoire where she kept her things. She carefully opened the door to the cabinet minding that the small, metal hinges didn't squeak. The elfling had always been good at sneaking around and often had breakfast made and ready for the family without ever waking a single person.

Her hand found her knapsack, which she had already packed full the night before, after everyone had gone to bed. She slide her feet into knee high black leather boots then pulled the black leather wrap from the last peg inside the wardrobe and slide her arms inside the cozy fur lining; then pulled the leather straps tight around her waist.

Lithius had made the wrap and matching boots for Tazeria as her birthday present, but gave them to her a week ago. Lith had never been one to wait to give a gift, always seeming more excited and eager to see the response from the recipient than to bother with keeping to a date.

Taz closed the door soundlessly and crept from the room, silently stepping down the wide staircase, in to the Centeroom. Treading softly, she came to the thin wooden door that led to the kitchen. The kitchen was dark with the exception of a few smoldering, red embers peeking beneath some gray covered ash in the hearth.

There was a bowl of winter apples in the middle of the large butcher-block counter, of which she took four and stuffed them in a small-knotted sack. Half a dozen left over biscuits from dinner the previous night followed the fruit in to the bag. She crossed a few steps to the icebox at the other side of the room and opened it. Peering inside she wrinkled her nose, " Brie," she thought, "what is it with these humans and cheese?"

Searching through the cheese Tazeria placed several hunks of Alterac Swiss into the bag, then turned to the pantry to remove some dried sagefish and placed that in the sack along with the other food items.

"There- that should hold me for a day or two." She thought with satisfaction, wiping her hands on a small kitchen rag that had been hung near the pantry. Taz stood and turned and as she did, a low POP! Made her jump back a step.

"Balyon!" she startled in a shocked, harsh whisper as her young warlock friend materialized before her, his blue robe swishing the floor.

Grinning at her with wicked in his eyes, with a barely audible chuckle, he whispered,

"The eye misses nothing Tazzy. I've been watching you for the last 10 minutes.' Balyon chuckled again. "Where, exactly, do you think you're off to this early in the morning? Oh and Happy Birthday, this is for you." He offered her a small blue-ribboned box held in his hands, which she eyed carefully, then accepted.

"Thanks Bal." she said as she shook the box next to her pointy ear." and. (her eyes shifted to the floor) -I'm going for a walk- since it seems you _must_ know… _and,_' she continued_, _

"You will most likely have that stupid eye thing following me about.' She

said indignantly as she flashed a small smile in Balyon's direction.

Then, accusingly, Taz raised a thin eyebrow at him, "You must be a very bored stalker." she teased with a light laugh.

"Really? Humm, well…" he eyed her suspiciously, "people who go for walks this early in the morning don't take so much food **or** their belongings." Balyon said flatly, as he pointed at the knapsack near the door.

"OOOH" He suddenly mouthed excitedly, and with realization in his voice as his eyes found her stack of mail, "they also don't leave a stack of letters on the counter." He quickly snatched the pack of letters Tazeria had mistakenly set down on the countertop while she had been hunting for her food.

Taz panicked a little and felt the nerves under her skin come alert, Balyon's face became serious and he pinned her with a glance. In a low whisper he stated

"If you don't tell me where you're going… I ..will… wake.. this.. house."

He shoved the letters in his robe and quickly began to roll magic within his hands. There was a deep fire in his eyes that Taz knew meant that Balyon would unquestionably, carry out his threat.

At that precise moment another voice responded to that threat, "She's running away Bal- can't you see?" Startled, Taz spun to see Ito standing in the cellar doorway next to the hearth, his coat on his back, his fully stuffed knapsack slung low over his shoulder. His gaze, unreadable, raked her face

"What the blazes? Ito! Hush! I am NOT running away!" She menacingly growled in a low voice between gritted teeth. Tazeria's face was hot with anger and shocked to find Ito standing before her.

Then at the very instant

"NO!' Commanded another voice, in deep low whisper, from the doorway of the thin door behind Taz, that lead to the center room, Tazeria spun around yet again, to be met by the steady gaze of none other than Swill.

He locked his eyes to the nightelf's, and stated the plain, simple truth, sinking his eyes into hers. "No" Swill repeated, lowly and calmly- taking one slow step toward her, " I agree with you. You're not running away, Tazeria….. You…. are running **TO** it."

"Where, Tazeria" he took another step in her direction.

–He spoke each word slowly-

"Where, exactly, are you planning to go?'

Swill's piercing gaze never left Tazeria's face.

That was fifteen years ago….fifteen years!

Balyon didn't know why that memory of that morning in the kitchen so very long ago came to his mind, just then, as he lowered his drake on the rock near the two commanders stationed outside of the Black Temple. The warlock felt the air about him unsettle and shift, and a small, unidentifiable shiver coursed across his back.

Change was in the air, and his soul knew it, for the first time, Balyon thought he may perhaps, have to pray.

Balyon's Gift

They ran.

Their legs pumping; increasing the distance between the four of them and the Orcs, while rapidly decreasing the distance between their tiny group and the troops outside of the Black Temple; as fast as they could. The corridor was slick and dark. The wet- rot smell emanating from the slime of this underbelly filled their lungs and permeated their clothing. The sweet, sickening stench of Orcs filled the air.

Run- they did indeed!

Speeding and rounding the curving inclines of the intestine-like hallways, all the while dodging and evading the orcs arrows and shots as they pinged and splintered pieces of old dark brick; merely inches from their heads and bodies. Shards of ancient masonry were shattering everywhere, the fragments dusting them as they raced for the light; the rose -colored, hazy light, of Shadowmoon Valley.

They raced toward life.

'Dantebree was in front, as usual, racing like a thoroughbred filly, eyes focused straight ahead- oblivious to the scraps of brick exploding and cascading around her. Ito, next in the short line, muscled legs and surging blood coursing through his veins like miniature red rivers overflowing from too much rainfall. Tazeria, her sure-footed graceful feet, finding each yard, like rapid fire, each step landing faster than the one before, her long lavender hair whipping ribbons behind her. Her heightened perception however was as though the group were all moving in slow motion. Then there was Odage, at the rear, blade on his back, nostrils flaring, his red and gold tabard streaked with the grubby slime from the interior walls, pounding the ground with lean, even strides.

And then it happened.

"Bree was zipping and sliding a narrow curve as the hunter's arrow made its way into her hip bone. She doubled down as it pierced her flesh. Ito grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling but dragging her a foot too far he lost grip and 'Bree went down.

Taz leaped over the two of them. Odage then began his skid and collided into Ito's shoulder. The impact was too great to avoid the slide, Taz turned and watched as Odage fell to the ground. As he fell, the rogue vanished, as he vanished Taz watched in slow motion as the Orc hunter released his flare directed at the spot where Odage had just fallen, exposing the rogue from the anonymous safety of the shadow.

The Orc Hunter's savage pet ravager was on the fallen rogue in a split second, rendering and tearing, ripping and slicing the masterful rogue's skin and muscle.

"NOOOO!' shrieked Taz.

She pulled her dagger from her waistband and dove onto the orc's pet slicing its throat from right to left nearly decapitating the creature in one deadly lunge of her hand. From the side she saw the bloodied Odage swing the massive glaive in her direction to finish the job, and the beast's head fell to the ground. The warm blood of the ravager splattered and ran down her chest in thick lines as Taz turned to face the hunter.

The Hunter was not alone.

Not that hunters were ever truly alone.

What stood with him was no pet.

Tazeria had heard of Deathknights but had never actually seen one until this very moment. The massive Orc strode behind the hunter with eyes like blue flame. He had bones clanking around his waist and with a piercing, inhuman wail that sounded like tin metal on slate turned the ground beneath him a bright red. Then by some unknown magic, pulled and sucked Odage into the red, rapidly spreading area and began to suck the life from the masterful rogue.

The Hunter laughed and turned his attention to Tazeria, one shot of the poisoned serpent sting was all it took - Taz went down. The hunter pulled his axe from its sheath and as he raised it over his head grunting, low chuckles issued from his throat, filled the nightelf's ears.

Suddenly, the ground began to quake and a deafening roar filled the cavern around the four. The hunter recoiled and looked hard in the semi darkness.

It was the last move the hunter would make in that life.

The roar of the raptor was deafening as the sound rolled off the dank walls like a tidal wave of terror running headlong toward the hunter poised to kill Tazeria.

The stunned rogue watched it all in slow motion.

The Orc hunter's eyes widened in disbelief, his chin slacked open, his body frozen with the sight of Triceptaplot bearing down. The raptor was single minded in his target, sinewy jaws snapping and strung with drool. The huge raptor head was digging a trench- like gouge; (which was slightly lighter in color then the slippery walls) across the ceiling of the dark corridor. Crumbling, ancient dust went like spiraling clouds in the massive beasts wake.

As the crazed animal bore down on the hunter, the many rows of spiked, terrifying teeth glistening in the feint light of the dungeon hallway; it opened its horrific jaws wide. Then, in one tearing lunge, the beast ripped the head whole from the Orc's shoulders, his torso crumpling to the slick floor, legs jerking with nerve reflex.

Like a broken rubber band, a long strand of bloodied, torn orc muscle whipped out and snapped the short space where the hunter had stood. With a THWACK! It struck Tazeria's stunned features, snap-shocking her out of the frozen state which held her prisoner, leaving a thick, deep red, wet line on her cheek, like native war paint.

That was all it took and she was on them.

The death knight stood proudly over Odage's limp form, which was unmoving and splayed unnaturally upon the red stained floor at his feet. The huge knight's icy glare focused on the Nightelf as he raised his hand to conjure yet more unknown, magical horror to suck Tazeria into the circle of death.

It wasn't sinking in…Taz was vaguely aware of the mayhem taking place behind her….. The troops from outside were making their way through the winding tunnels toward their small group.

Help had arrived. She was minimally aware of the clash happening all around her in the passageway, to Tazeria, it was surreal. Her senses were taking it all in.

….Zelis's whistled orders for Cassana and Sheba to attack the throng of advancing Orcs from the front…. the pounding and shaking of the ground as the raptor plowed forward….Ito yelling (not yelling, ORDERING) for Tazeria to fall back…."Bree cursing as she pulled at the arrow shaft in her hip….the sound of approaching troops from behind….a solid bear's growl…the PLOP! of a totem being planted on wet ground…the whoosh of Freon's ice sheet whizzing past in an attempt to slow this new being….

But, above all this was a growl. A growl of pain and anger so loud and all consuming; so massively heart rendering… pulled up from the deep recesses of Tazeria's gut toward the escape of her throat…toward a light of its own….

…."ODAGE! ODAGE! OH GOD! ….no…NO! NO!…ODAGE!

She didn't recognize her voice as the words burst forth from her mouth…Tazeria scrambled on hand and knee toward his lifeless form on the dark-red bed of death that spread under Odage's body at his assailant's feet. She threw her body into the circle and grabbed for her friend- mindlessly tearing and grasping for his remains. The red burned her legs, burrowing like tiny mites into the pores of her skin through her beaten leather britches scalding her knees while she grappled to grab at her dead friend.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light covered the poisoned ground and stamped out the red. Frigne, encircled by The Light stood between the death knight and the rogues; as the Nightelf secured the hold on the master rogue's body, snatching at his stained tabard to find a grip to drag him to the side of safety. Taz looked at Frigne and he smiled at her then turned his attention to the abomination, known as a death-knight, before him.

She dragged and pulled the heavy body toward the throng at the top of the incline, gasping for breath, slipping a foot backward on the bloody surface, and then gaining two feet ahead, nearly collapsing under the weight of the once mighty rogue and his massive Glaive.

The Glaive, of Illidan Stormrage.

"RAW! SARI! RAW! SARI! STEEN! SOMEONE!" Tazeria screamed and yelled until she thought her throat would bleed with effort, "I need a HEALER! ODAGE NEEDS HEALING!"

Then she reached them.

Ito's hands were on her in an instant, helping her drag the lifeless Odage toward the rose- lightened end of the tunnel and in a voice only she could hear he spoke clearly,

"Taz get a hold of yourself! Odage is gone. Stay with me and get a grip. Focus, we will take him home when this is done"

Taz was furiously ripping at Odage's tabard and stopped dead returning Ito's order with a murderous glare in her eyes…shaking her head a bit too fast.

"NOT DEAD- **NOT DEAD**! Can't you hear me?! HE **Needs a HEALER**! A HEALER- YOU FOOL! HE'S NOT DEAD!" Her voice was unnaturally high…

Ito fought to control the urge to smack her face back to sanity; he shook his head ever so slightly and silently softened his eyes, then turned his back to Taz and threw himself into the fray before him in the tunnel, with the Glaive in _his_ hands.

Her hand flew to her burning throat, and she felt it…. and she REMEMBERED.

The stone… THE SOUL STONE! The wondrous amber stone Balyon had gifted to her on her birthday those many years ago in the kitchen of the Stormwind Orphanage, the day she sought to start her life….

Quickly and with jerking movements Tazeria grabbed the Mithril chain and snatched it from her neck, pulling the small gift from its home around her neck; a home where it had lain safely for the past 15 years. She raised the smooth stone above her head and said "by the Gods..." she then thrust the object to Odage's chest and pressed her palm flat against it searing and sealing it to his body. The spark shower flew everywhere, like a blinding firework during the celebration of elders.

A flash of light which mimicked lightening zapped through the tunnels. Tazeria's hands burned as if scorched by hot flames; still she did not remove them from the stone pressed against Odage's chest.

Then it happened. It was instantaneous and unavoidable.

At that very second of contact, when the stone pressed against the corpse of the master rogue; Balyon was running toward Swill at the front of the tunnel. The warlock was swirling and gathering magic to jump into the battle the tunnel behind Swill.

The instant the stone made contact with the remains of Odage, Balyon shrieked and threw back his head in agonizing pain, his teeth snapping shut. His face a contortion of fused features melting down upon one another, eyes into cheekbones nose into lips, lips into chin, all running down his face. Balyon's knees hit the rock, a solid thud racking his body with the impact.

Swill turned to look at the warlock, fear gripped his gut. Astonished, the commander watched, helpless as Balyon's robes turned black as the blackest night, a shadow darker than any shadow Swill had ever encountered before. It spread from the center of Balyon's chest then crept, like decay, from the center of his chest to the bottom of the hem of his flowing garments.

Balyon turned to Swill, his face unrecognizable as the man Swill had always known, Swill stared into the eyes of pure evil, yellowed and red-streaked melting eyes that bore into his soul.

Eyes that KNEW what frightened him most.

Balyon was gone-and this devil had his soul.


	5. Chapter 5

Paste your

The Return

Ogamitto stood next to Souljaxx in the courtyard of the Stormwind Cathedral. Blue was sitting next to Wynnie on the bench beside the tree that shaded all four of them. The sun was low in the eastern sky. It was barely after daybreak, shades of deep blue and violet still hung in the corners of the bricks on the massive structured stairs. It was chilly and not a sign of wind. It was as though the entire city was holding its' breath.

And perhaps it was…

Wynnie was making a wreath out of clover blooms that Blue had picked and placed in her small wicker basket. Compenso sat across the way on the steps to the orphanage, ready to warn the matrons to keep the children in doors this morning. There was no sign yet of Mrs. Beachnor, or other staff members, or any of the orphaned children. Nothing stirred at the orphanage. Compenso thought "At least someone was able to sleep."

No one else had slept.

No one had eaten.

No one said a word.

No one looked at the other.

They were waiting.

The company was returning from the Battle at the Black Temple. That was the only word that had made it back to them; that, and that there were bodies,

lots… of… bodies.

Enough bodies that Blue couldn't drown out the sound of the undertaker building coffins. The hammering began at half past eight the night before. She could still hear the pounding echoing off the tall stone walls of the courtyard where she now sat. She had come here when she could not sleep, then came again after she had picked the clover. It was where Wynnie had found her several hours ago.

There were others in the courtyard as well. But none so filled with regrets as the two men under the tree. Souljaxx stripped off a pointy piece of bark and poked Oga in his nether region. Startled and cursing Ogamitto turned growled at the rogue.

"Watch it Max. Your true colors are showing." taunted Souljaxx.

"Don't call me that you sorry excuse for a pair of daggers! Say MY name, go on, SAY IT." Oga spat the words out at Souljaxx.

"Origami" Souljaxx flicked the piece of bark in Oga's face but before the worgan could launch a full force retaliation Blue was on her feet.

"STOP! JUST STOP! Freaking idiots! What the hell is wrong with you? Not now! Not here! 'As mad as she was they heard her voice break, just a little behind the anger.

"You're right Blue. Sorry."

"Sorry" repeated the Worg.

Souljaxx now added this to his never ending list of regrettable actions. She was right. She was right and he was pissed. He should have been there with them. It should have been him coming home in a coffin. Gods above knew he would gladly have laid down his life for any of his friends. But it was some of them who were now gone. That was the worst. Not knowing who was lost. He felt as though he could crawl right out of his skin. He turned to the tree and laid a solid punch to the trunk accompanied by a fierce growl.

Ytu walked into the courtyard just in time to see Souljaxx punch the poor tree. He saw the many people of Stormwind and surrounding area slowly filtering into the walled area. His eyes fell on Compenso sitting on the orphanage stairs, head in his hands, staring at the bottom step. Not willing to deal with the Worg and Soul, and not really wanting for the company of the women, he headed in the direction of the orphanage, thinking it strange that no children were outside. Comp lifted his head as the Dwarf approached. Their eyes met, pinning each other with the seriousness of the events about to unfold. There were no words for this, none that he knew anyway.

The warrior sat on the cold step next to Compenso, sucked in a long breath and in a low voice said, "Hey bro, what's the news?"

"Haven't heard any more than you have I guess; just that we lost so many. I don't want the children to hear any details. That's why I'm sitting here, to warn the matrons to keep them indoors."

Ytu looked up to the high arched window of the cathedral, his demeanor softened a bit as he replied, "That's the one good thing about you Comp, always thinking of the kids."

"Well, where do you think most of them were raised? Their MOTHERS are in there!" Comp's voice cracked with emotion and then Ytu understood the real reason Comp stood guard. Who else could tell Mrs. Beachnor her girl Tazeria was gone, or her boy Swill? IF, and that's a big IF, it were them. Surely the sweet woman had lost someone and Comp was right to guard this door.

Ytu was still staring at the beautiful arched widow of the Cathedral when Comp spoke.

"Looking at her won't make her yours Ytu. You know she has always been Balyon's." Comp tenderly whispered the words. His gaze followed Ytu's to that of the dark haired beauty who stood behind the glass. Like a prisoner of the God's who ruled her house. Even Comp sucked in his breath. Seresta stood with one palm placed against the glass; her eyes fixed on the Mage tower and never noticed the men below had even been watching her.

"What if it was Balyon? Something has happened to him or she would be out here with the rest of us." Ytu meant to think that sentence, not to speak it aloud. But the words were already on the wind before he had a chance to think about what he'd said.

"Are you wishing that you jackwagon?!" Comp's voice was harsh but still low enough where no one else could hear.

"Hell NO! But she wouldn't be standing there unless something was wrong. Warlocks have the way of knowing things. If anyone would know it would be Seresta. I wonder if she knows about all of them. I wonder if she has told Sariseva." The dwarf had a twinge of guilt for a brief moment and pushed it aside. All his life he had been entranced by the beauty of Seresta. Hell, truth be known, they ALL had crushes on her as boys only some of those crushes had lingered into manhood.

"If she has told Sari, then Sari is doing the smart thing by making no announcements until someone corroborates it within these city walls. When the mage tower lights up, we'll know. We will all know."

Comp hung his head to look at the stair again.

"Yeah, man. You're right. I am gonna hate seein' that purple light. But I know its commin'. Do you think they'll all port into the tower? This is four days after the battle, don'tcha think someone would have made it home by now?" Ytu poked the top of Comp's head slightly to get his attention.

"Bud, someone should have been here I think. That's what makes me worry even more. "Bree. Taz. Ito. Swill. Zelis. Odage. Someone should have made it here! Holy crap! What if there all gone?! What if there all DEAD?" Compenso's face exploded in horror as the adrenaline of proposed loss filled his veins and he hopped up from the step.

Ytu pulled him down hard and got in his face, "Pull it together! Right now, RIGHT HERE. There's children inside! Chill out!" Ytu was finding that calming an upset Compenso was more of a chore than it looked. The little healer was holding in a lot of emotion.

After a minute to gather himself, both the young men returned their gazes upon the beauty, high in the cathedral window. Seresta was still standing like a porcelain doll, with one palm against the window. If Ytu looked closed enough, he could see a ring of moisture providing a perfect little outline of the most beautiful hand in the Eastern Kingdoms.

Both sighed.

~~~~Continued:~~~~

The people in the Stormwind courtyard had been waiting.

For news. For a sign. For just a sliver of word.

They heard the drakes before they saw them. The shadow of their wings eclipsed the early morning sunrise before the day had a chance to dawn. Tazeria's dark green, monstrous mount's tattered, leathery wings pushed the air onto Ytu's face as she reined the beast. Dantebree was directly behind Taz, her black drake snorting dark smoke from his nostrils. Ytu wanted to smile, but none would come to his face. He pressed his palm onto the crown of Compenso's head and calmly said, "look up bud, Taz and Bree are here."

Comp raised his head and as he did, his eyes met Taz's. He sucked in a breath grabbing Yut's wrist, struck at the insanity he saw in their reflection.

"Ytu, you better pray that Ito made it. Look at her."

Tazeria's lavender hair was a stringy mess; her darting glance pinning each body in the courtyard. The leather on her left sleeve ripped and spinning in the wind from the dragon's wing plus, Ytu could see her grinding her jaw. Bree's dragon was situated too close for normal comfort of rogues. Well, at least they were alive.

Two were home.

In body at least.

document here...


	6. Chapter 6

Snuff's Kodo Stew

"Eat something."

Ito slid the large steaming bowl of Kodo Stew across the long, dark wooden dining table at Snuff's Retreat until it stopped with a spin in front of Tazeria.

"No." came the response, barely audible in the large room. Taz never looked up at her friend. Tazeria had all her blades laid out on the huge table, a table built for a banquet grouping for a king.

Snuff's dining hall was high walled and woodsy. Thick, dark Oakwuld beams used for cross-timbers graced the high pointed A- frame ceiling. The west wall of the large room was beautifully designed with half a dozen, floor- to- ceiling arched windows. The paned glass had been cut at the top to reflect tiny, colored diamond prisms across the table each evening, during sunset. Dark Ebon framed paintings of various ancestors and battle victories hung on the north and south walls, which were painted a deep, royal red. The east wall had a grand entryway where two traditionally armored Druid statues stood to guard and greet occupants entering this hall, appearing as noble in stoic stance, as they would have been had they been alive.

"Flame it all Taz! I said EAT SOMETHING…..it's been THREE days." Ito was becoming irritated- that was a simple fact and was more than evident in his tone of voice. He turned to look at 'Bree for help in convincing their friend that she really needed some food only to find the slightly inebriated elf sitting by the firelight, stringing her newly acquired, dried Orc ears onto a carefully knotted mistyreed strand, and not looking one bit in his direction. A fast burst of air hissed between his fine white teeth and he slapped his hands on his thigh in exasperation.

"I wouldn't keep poking that dragon Ito, if I were you. You're liable to lose a kidney or perhaps an eye…. but we can only hope."

"You shut up!" Ito snapped back at Bree.

"No, you." Bree's lip curled into a half smile.

Bree kept one eye on her project, and the other sharply, however discreetly, directly on Tazeria. Truth be known, she had never seen the rogue more deadly than she was these last three days since the battle at the Black Temple, and harbored a bit of inner concern for her sister in arms. Perhaps for the first time since they had become friends, 'Bree was wary Taz was losing her grip and poised herself to any action Taz may surprise them with…. positive or negative, 'Bree was on full-scale alert, of course no one knew that, never the less, 'Bree was quite conscious of the need for her hyper- awareness.

"Eat it Taz", Ito pressed.

"I SAID… NO!…. Please don't ask me again. Besides that's Horde food. Where the heck did Snuff get Kodo meat from?" Taz finally looked Ito in the face with a question in her eye.

**~~~~~~to be continued.**

**The Gravesite**

Ald stood behind Tazeria and Ito as they sat beside the freshly dug gravesites. The little gnome placed his tiny, warm hand upon her shoulder and gave a minute squeeze in a gesture of concern and comfort.

The smell of the raw, newly exposed dirt filled his pudgy nose and the damp air of the Darkshire gravesites chilled his short frame. Gnomes were no strangers to the cold, actually, they preferred it to the heat, however this was not cold in the air this day- this day, there was a chill, and for Ald, that made all the difference in the world. His slight frame shivered and try as he might, he was unable to shake off the dreadful feeling of something or someone, was watching him.

Maybe it was this place full of death and sorrow? Maybe it was the multitude of unanswered questions that flooded his mind?

Or, was it a premonition of things to come?

So much information to consider these last few days, he didn't know how to begin to sort it all out. He made a mental note to talk to Snuff privately once they returned to the retreat in the Stormpeak.

The last week had been traumatic for all of them, filled with funeral arrangements and ceremonial events for those they had lost at the temple. There were many now gone, naught to return… holes that would never be, COULD never be filled…. Brave and valiant souls, lost and forever absent from the ranks of the future, these survivors humbly laid their dead to rest…..again.

'Bree sat across from the trio, staring off into the distance. She took a long pull on the bronze flask, which was covered in dwarvian rune markings (surely filled with some sort of alcoholic beverage) retrieved from a specially sewn pocket of her leather pant leg.

To her left stood Roxell and Torima, both clad in their new leathers for the solemn occasion. Ladowsond and Chango, freshly gemmed and enchanted in their raiding armor, stood like matching bookends, at the foot of this grave, both their heads bowed and looking no one in the eye.

The rogues were all here. THE rogues. All of them… even Stillstay, who like Odage, did not often leave the shadows to be seen amongst the public.

Never in recent history had such a gathering occurred. Some called them murderers and thieves; some called them protectors of the Alliance; a gang of the deadliest most notorious, brilliant masters of the shadow and mist as had ever graced Azeroth.

They came to bury their own.

As Ald looked at each of his comrades he took note of their weapons; skillfully crafted silver daggers, heavily runed- marked maces, sparkling fist enhancements and swords too beautiful to describe in mere laymen's terms graced the hips and backs of these fine soldiers.

The weapon defines the rogue, BUT the rogue gives the weapon life... a life, which was meant for death.

Among them was the glaive…. THE GLAIVE…the one Odage had taken from Illidan Stormrage himself, the one glaive that had brought this destruction and now the separation and possession of one of their own, upon the families.

Ald eyed the large blade strapped to Ito's back carefully. It had an essence about it that almost gave it a smell to Ald. The gnome wrinkled his nose a bit as he studied the finely crafted weapon.

There was a feint glow and iridescent glimmering around the precisely honed edge, and if he looked at it close enough and long enough, it seemed to breathe in a movement so slight as to go unnoticed by any casual observer.

There was evil on that blade. He didn't know how it got there, or why it got there but it was there nonetheless.

The small gnome lifted his gaze with effort and noticed the gathering of priests at the edge of the graveyard. They were standing closer together than any rogue would have stood to another and some had a glow about them and had hands outstretched to the other.

Ald didn't understand priests, but he understood communication. The priests were joining together; they were forming a front line of defense, but for what?

For whom?

A large, black cloud began rolling atop the hillside of Ravenhill Cemetery. It folded over upon itself in waves and froth like black water.

At that moment an ear deafening CRACK! Snapped the solemn groups into smart attention and a howl of wind rushed their faces as all eyes whipped to the ebon cloud overhead.

The horns began to form from the cloud, solid and spiraling forth from a bronze colored forehead that was lined and had the look of old leather. Its wings were gigantic and spread wide as they emerged from the black abyss of the cloud in the sky.

Slowly its shape formed from the black boiling mass and soon it bore its' full body forth. Muscled chest and biceps; pointy –tailed, ox-blood colored skin with sharp fanged row of teeth over thick chiseled lips- violet eyes – sharp with spectrum vision.

In its left claw-like hand the demon held a bloodied whip made from tightly woven orc muscle and it made a loud SNAP! CRACK! as he whipped it through the misted air.

A low rumble made the ground upon which Tazeria and Ito sat, quiver as they watched the cloud give birth to the creature. The rumble became a growl and the sound grew until it threatened to deafen the entire funeral party.

They shielded their eyes and clasp their hands over their ears, as the rumble became a din of growling and gnashing. With a roar he made his full presence known to all of them, he WANTED them to know he was here and what he Had- HE OWNED, body and soul and without question.

His howl shuddered the whole of Darkshire.

"I AM SYNNEAU."

And Balyon rode his back.

**The Gravesite Part 2**

Tazeria whipped her head around to the booming voice and snatched her blades from their sheaths, spinning them through her fingers; she spun to face the abomination forming in the cloud above the western hill. She fought against the harsh wind which was blowing her long silvery -violet hued hair, creating a wave of streaking behind her. Her ears were still booming from the horror before her. Her eyes narrowed on her target. Her shiny, black funeral leathers glinted in the pale sallow light of Ravenhill Cemetery.

SYNNEAU!

The demon that held her childhood friend's soul hostage was appearing before her very eyes. He was molten and terrible. Tiny flames drifted snot-like from his nostrils and the whip in his hand cracked the air around him like snapping shots of lightening. The smell of sulfur threaded thru the air in the cemetery.

Balyon (or what was left as an image of him) sat astride the back of the soulless one. His eyes yellowed and red as blood appeared as though they were dripping and melting down what was left of his sunken cheeks. The warlock's facial skin was ripped in sections and seeping blood and mucus-like tiny threads as it rolled, mocking-like tears, down his disfigured face. Two sets of heavily set Mithril chains, anchored by iron cast rivets shackled his legs. The shackles sank into the flesh and clasped around each rib of the chest of the beast; securing his position as rider of this creature… yes rider… but certainly not master.

"GRAB HER ITO!" Bree was shrieking from behind the pair on the other side of the freshly dug grave. The rogue shot across the short space in an attempt to tackle her friend but came up short and skidded into the large granite headstone one plot over.

"ITO! GRAB HER! " GO GO GO!"

Before Bree could recover, Ito caught Tazeria around her waist and iron- gripped her to his chest.

"DO NOT do this Taz, get a hold of yourself." Ito stared hard-eyed into the rogues face. "Bait him in conversation, see what he wants.'

The warrior had known for days that it wouldn't take much to set her on fire. Never in his wildest thoughts did he believe this demon would have the audacity to interrupt such a solemn event, using the funeral gathering as a perverse tool to make his presence and power known to all he had come for.

Ito's eyes dared not blink or remove his gaze from Tazeria's face. He knew her as well anyone could know her. Her strength and her determination met his own; but he could not allow her first strike.

Then, like flashes of silvery lights, seen but for an instant, only to disappear just as quickly, Ald, Ladowsond, Chango and Roxell silently stealthed and as fast as shooting stars seen across a mid- summer night sky, positioned themselves behind the warrior, waiting for him to call first blood.

The priests stood behind the catch of unseen soldiers preparing prayers of mending for what they knew was about to become their last few minutes in this life.

Tazeria met Ito's stern gaze.

"Release Me."

"Not until you make the promise." Ito's eyes now bore into Tazeria's.

The rogue spoke again, determination evident in her eyes,

"I say again … Release Me."

Her voice was calm, Ito's grip was unfaltering. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart through his chest plate.

"Make the pledge." Demanded Ito. He could feel the wind from the beasts' wings upon his face.

Bree stood, still holding her breath, "Are you gonna trust her word? Ito! Don't let her go!" she yelled to the warrior in a warning tone.

Tazeria's eyes still pinned Ito to the spot. Never wavering she stated;

"I vow not to draw first blood."

Tazeria then turned her head and gave 'Bree a sidelong look accompanied by. ..

The Grin…

Yes…You know the one..

That little…wicked…grin.

And with a curse Bree exhaled and said…

"Uh-oh.'

Ito searched Tazeria's eyes hard, "I trust you. This beast is beyond our control Tazeria; you would do well to keep that thought in the front of your pretty forehead."

"And you would do well to remember that it is best not to try to dictate what I may or may not think." Tazeria sharply retorted, "Your concern is duly noted. Now...release me."

With a final warning tug at her waist, Ito released the woman then took one small step backward into the midst of the stealthed rogues who had grouped behind him.

'Bree, on the other hand, did not stealth.

She pulled herself up and stood to the left of her friend, facing the demon head on. The beast was chilling, and Balyon flopping much like a ragdoll or some type of perverse clown upon its back was the most disturbing image she had ever witnessed. The sight made Dantebree swallow hard as to not vomit. The stench was overpowering, as every sense was assaulted. The sight, the smell, the audacity of intrusion but most of all the vision of her comrade enslaved turned her stomach and twisted her gut. She knew they must somehow, save Balyon from this merciless captor.

The beast spread his wings widely and the snort that blew from his nostrils shook the earth beneath the crowd below him.

Tazeria hooked her eyes into that of the creature and began the dance. Those who stood around the freshly filled graves watched in horror as the Nightelf took her first few steps toward the beast.

Her voice never wavered.

"Why do you hold my friend captive?" Tazeria demanded.

The demon chuckled at her, his reply was harsh. "I figured He would send someone worthy of my station. Instead, He sends the town strumpet. Surely He knows I won't fall for such tactics and have no need of your services. Your charms are but a waste upon me. Now, step aside before I give this saddle to you. " The demon threatened as he cast his vile whip in her direction. It CRACKED! within a hairs breath of Taz's face, it was the sign of his dismissal of her presence.

….

The harsh words washed over Taz like acid, she bit her tongue hard as her head snapped backward from the lash. She smelled the rotting tissue and blood from the whip as it breezed near her cheek forcing her to suck in a quick breath. Squaring her shoulders, she boldly took a second step toward the beast:

"You WILL answer my question! Why do you hold my friend captive?" her question was loud in her ears, her gaze never left the creature.

Amazingly, Balyon opened his mouth to speak, but it was the demons voice which was heard, his tone was loud and mocking.

"Silly sow of a woman, you know the answer to that. After all, you are the cause of his misery. Or is your mentality such that you are just too stupid to know this fact? He is my property, he belongs to me. Does he not ride my back? Does he not speak my tongue?"

Tazeria was suddenly aware that Bree was heaving deep breaths of air next to her and Ito was growling behind her, muttering obscenities. Clearly they had both been annoyed at the insults which were being spat upon her by the beast. Sariseva and Steen had stepped forward from the crowd of priests, anger lines marking their expressions. Raw and Saks both transcended into shadow and were seething.

At that exact moment, the ruin that was once Balyon's face faded, his pleading eyes met Tazeria's and he begged her in three words and only three words:

"Kill me, Tazeria."

It was Balyon's own voice plowing through the grotesque creatures' torment of his flesh.

"Kill me, please."

The air in the cemetery began to crackle and electrify.

The beast reared up on its back hooves and yowled till the trees quaked and the ground rolled sending the attendees of the funerals and town folks alike to their knees. Balyon's face immediately returned to the misshapen mess it had been in upon arriving at this place.

"SILENCE SLAVE!" boomed the demon. Shaking and bucking the body on its back like a puppet strung loosely, the beast again turned to Tazeria.

"Where is He woman? Why does He hide from me and send your worthless soul to fetch me hence?" Fire snaked from his nostrils to the ground beneath his wings and slowly trailed in the direction of the party behind Tazeria.

Suddenly a great light filled the forest at the edge of the Gravesite, and then, there they were! Standing there, in a wink of an eye. Tazeria was stunned.

"VILE BEAST ! RELEASE THAT SOUL OR MEET YOUR DESTINY!

….

Thorden! The head of The Cathedral of the Lightbringer!

Beside Thorden stood Snuff with Huit to his right; to his left, Zormeg and Edwhis!

A loud simultaneous shock of breath by the crowd at the sight of Druids let alone Horde in Darkshire flowed through those at the graves!

HORDE!

DRUIDS!

"Sweet Elune." Taz felt the wire of silver ice curl around each bone in her spine as she laid her gaze upon the party emerging from the light around the mighty Paladin.

The beast began chuckling again; a nasty, vulgar sound that reverberated through the ears of all within its range.

"IN THE NAME OF THE LIGHTBRINGER **YOU WILL RELEASE THAT SOUL**!" demanded The Paladin.

"Thorden..ha-ha… we meet again.' The demon held his tone as he spoke to the holy man. 'Why would I release that which is mine by right?"

"By what right do you claim such ownership? Balyon is a child of light. You have no ownership of him. SO I say again, Release him or I shall cast you into the pit of souls!" Thorden was direct and unwavering in his demand.

"There is one for whom I would trade." Responded Synneau, his chiseled lips stretching around his pointed teeth in a mock smile, Taz saw Balyon's lips mirror the action and her insides were turned out. "One, who walks among you, who is mine. If you were to give him to me in exchange I would consider releasing this one back to you." The sound of his voice was almost seductive.

Snuff quickly responded to Thorden in his ear, "It's a trap. He won't release him! Don't listen to his lies." His words rushed quickly to Thorden. "There is only one way to get him back. We must perform the rights!"

Thorden grabbed the eyes of the beast hard, he knew what was forthcoming.

"Yesss, you know of whom I speak, don't you?" Another low grumble of a laugh made the beast shudder in his chest. Balyon's puppet like body mimicked the action.

"Marudas…

bring me your so-called son..bring me that which is rightfully mine…

BRING ME THE HEAD OF MARUDAS!"


End file.
